


Gold

by hiholly123



Series: Colors [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcoholism, Bonding, Drama, F/M, Friendship, M/M, everybody still has issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-12-10 22:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiholly123/pseuds/hiholly123
Summary: The longer she could hold onto this feeling - of adventure, of distance, of hope - the better.





	1. Time and Space

On the outside, it seemed like it should have been tiny, hardly big enough for one person, let alone three. And if it was a time machine, it had to be full of controls, too, leaving even less space. But it was  _huge_.

Huge and orange and bright.

The Doctor entered right behind Jessica, brushing past her and bounding energetically up the stairs. She blinked out of her confounded daze as Jack gently put a hand on her shoulder and propelled her a couple of steps forward, enough to fit himself in and close the door behind them.

"Holy shit," Jessica blurted. She looked up, scanning the high ceiling, all of the orange and glass and gleaming metal. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack and the Doctor exchange a grin. She turned her attention to the platform suspended in the middle of the room - made of glass, with glass stairs leading up to it, and a large, shiny contraption in the middle of it. It reminded her vaguely of the kidnappers' control panels, littered with buttons and levers, but the Doctor's was incredibly less organized. She thought she saw a ketchup dispenser, and a typewriter. He pulled a monitor over to him, the edges of which were littered with scrawled-upon sticky notes.

"That's what I said," Jack agreed.

The Doctor cleared his throat. Jessica, with effort, stopped her eyes from continuing to roam the room and looked at him. He beamed at her, spread his arms theatrically, and announced, "Welcome to the TARDIS, Jessica Jones!"

Jessica raised her eyebrows. "The  _what_?"

"Time And Relative Dimensions in Space!" the Doctor exclaimed. "You have to say the thing, though, before we move on." He clapped his hands, and clasped them expectantly in front of him.

"The thing," Jessica repeated. Jack rolled his eyes, although he kept smiling. The Doctor only waited.

"You noticed the size difference," Jack clarified. "From the inside and the outside. Didn't you?"

"Uh…" Jessica glanced back to the Doctor, whose grin faltered. "Yeah. Hard not to."

"How would you  _describe_  that difference?" the Doctor prompted.

Jessica squinted at him. "It's...bigger on the inside?"

"Bingo!" He whirled around, beaming once more, and started typing away on the typewriter. "So, Trish's apartment, yes?"

Jessica only took a moment to try and make sense of the previous exchange, before deciding to simply move on and ask questions later. "Yeah. How are you planning to explain this to her, exactly?"

The Doctor didn't look up, still busily typing. "Oh, I dunno. Pop in, say hello. Introduce myself. You can vouch for me, can't you?"

"I guess," Jessica said. "You know this is pretty weird, though, don't you?"

The Doctor paused. He flashed her a wild, mischievous grin. "I  _specialize_  in weird, Jessica Jones." Jack rolled his eyes again. The Doctor didn't seem to notice, or maybe didn't care, and continued working. "Address, please?"

Jessica rattled it off. She still felt kind of...detached. She almost expected, at any moment, to wake up in Trish's apartment, with none of the past thirty minutes having happened at all. Maybe her brain was just making this up, trying to cope with the fact that she'd lost Kilgrave, or-

"Hold onto something," Jack warned, moments before the Doctor yelled, "Geronimo!" and threw down a lever. Jessica only just had time to grab onto a nearby rail.

The whole ship shuddered violently, practically throwing her into Jack. It occurred to her that the Doctor still wasn't exactly trustworthy, and with his controls cobbled together as they were, that likely meant that the rest of the ship was the same. It could rattle apart, flinging them into space, or time. She could die right here, and no one would ever know what the hell had happened to her.

The shuddering halted, as suddenly as it had begun, and Jessica almost flew into Jack again. The Doctor was babbling away already, or maybe he'd never actually stopped, saying, "You go first, Jones. She'll be worried enough without a stranger jumping out at her first thing."

Jessica briefly cast her eyes to the doors. "Did we even move?" she questioned. "Kinda felt like we just  _rattled_."

The Doctor huffed, descending the stairs with a frown. "Of course we  _moved!_  I can fly my own ship, thank you!"

"Some would beg to differ," Jack mumbled, just loud enough for the Doctor to hear.

"Oi!"

Jessica shook her head. The banter sounded familiar. She recalled similar barbs being exchanged on Trish's couch, not two days previously. But when she looked at the Doctor, she could only see the slightest shades of the man he claimed to have been. She had no reason to doubt him - Jack didn't, jumping right into familiarity like he wasn't speaking to an entirely new face. And she wasn't sure that she did, not really. She just...couldn't quite reconcile Kilgrave's wide brown eyes, freckled nose, and painful frustration with this new, floppy-haired, bowtie-clad, excitable Doctor in front of her.

This was not a situation she had  _ever_  imagined herself being in. Goddamn, her life was weird.

The Doctor gestured grandly to the blue doors, bowing slightly. "After you."

Jessica took a step forward, grit her teeth, and pulled the doors open.

To find a gun in her face.

"Shit," she said, and dropped to the floor just as a shot fired off.

"No guns in my TARDIS!" the Doctor yelped, hardly audible for the ringing in Jessica's ears. " _Patricia Walker-_ "

"Jessica!" Trish said in something of a scream. "What the hell is this? You-you just-"

Jessica, heart in her throat, pulled herself up to standing again, and snatched the gun from Trish's hands. "Jesus Christ," she croaked. "Trish-" She found herself silenced as Trish pulled her into a frantic hug.

"It's really you, isn't it?" Trish whispered.

Jessica hesitantly wrapped her arms around Trish's back. "Yeah, yeah, it's me."

"Oh, not again," the Doctor muttered. "I swear I hit the right year. You saw me, Jack, I did, didn't I? I swear-"

Jessica ignored him, gently pulling back from Trish. "What happened? What the hell's with the gun?"

"A blue box appeared in my living room," Trish said. She met Jessica's eyes, with suspicion and fear overwhelming any relief. "It's been a couple of days, Jessica. We haven't heard from you."

"Thank Rassilon," the Doctor breathed. Jessica twisted to look at him, finding him leaning heavily in the TARDIS' doorway. "Right year," he said, a smile alighting on his face. "Couple days late, not too bad."

Jessica tucked the gun into the back of her jeans before Trish could even think to make a grab for it again. "It's a time machine," she explained, more weakly than she'd intended. Trish's eyes flew to Jack, and then to the Doctor. Jessica thought she saw some vague sort of horrified recognition there.

"Okay," she said, dragging out the word. "Explain."

* * *

"No way," Luke said, a few hours later. He paced around the Doctor, who kept trying to track the other man with his eyes.

"Ta-da," the Doctor said with a grin. "It's magic! Except not. Not at all like magic, actually. Science-y. Biology stuff."

Luke paused, narrowing his eyes. They scanned over the Doctor, who stood remarkably still. "Okay, maybe I can sort of believe it."

"One thing stays constant," Jack put in with a smirk, "the Doctor's ability to speak absolute nonsense."

"It's not nonsense," the Doctor argued, crossing his arms.

"You just like to talk to hear your own voice," Jack said.

"And?"

Luke brought a hand to his face, palm to the eyes in a self-soothing gesture. Jessica twitched, fighting the desire to go to him, touch his hand, something. He was standing pointedly apart from her, guardedly, and kept stealing disbelieving glances at her.

She could give him some space. She understood. And, more than anything else, she was good at keeping her distance from people. No matter how much she might not want to.

"Anyway!" the Doctor exclaimed. Luke lifted his head. Trish worried at her lip with her teeth, pensive and tired. Jessica herself was beginning to feel the drag of the past few days' events in full. The Doctor's surprise arrival and the following excitement had burned most of it away at first, but it was creeping back. "We were sort of thinking of going on a bit of a trip!" the Doctor explained. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Interested?"

Trish met Jessica's eyes. "A trip where?" she asked.

"Anywhere you'd like," the Doctor said. He had that grin on again, the one he'd worn when he'd introduced the idea to Jessica. She'd never seen anything even close to an expression that genuinely excited on the other Doctor's face. "I'm not a big fan of guns, but under the circumstances I suppose I can excuse your response."

"A trip in your time machine," Luke clarified. The Doctor nodded.

Jessica cleared her throat. "I'm going," she offered. Trish stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "It's all of time and space, Trish," Jessica said, maybe a little peevishly. "God knows I need a fucking break."

"What better way to vacation than throughout the universe?" the Doctor encouraged. "There're lots of lovely places all over. Boring, most of them, but lovely all the same. And you lot might like a bit of boring, anyhow. Bit of a rest. A repose. A-"

"When did you decide this?" Trish asked, still staring. "Jess, I don't know…after everything that's happened..."

"Isn't there anywhere you'd want to go?" the Doctor prodded. "Anywhen? We could go see New York City's first settlers! We could go ice skating on the universe's most ice-skating-friendly planet. We could go to any concert, any show you've ever wanted to see. Ooh, there's the sand dunes of Ra IV, although I've heard those have a little bit of a...well, an infestation problem, so maybe not. Could be fun, though."

Trish blinked a few times. Glancing to Luke, Jessica found him wide-eyed and disbelieving.

"Ice skating?" Trish said.

"I've been to that planet," Jack put in. "Nice place. Do you bring  _everyone_  you meet there, Doc?"

"Your criticisms are being ignored," the Doctor informed him. "And for your information, no, the Ponds haven't been yet."

"But they  _are_  going."

"Ohhh," the Doctor grumbled, "...hush."

Luke slowly shook his head. "This is a lot to process," he said.

"Er, right, suppose that's fair," the Doctor replied, rocking on his heels, face falling just slightly. "It's been a busy few days for you all." He glanced to Jack. "I have to admit, I sort of might have forgotten that this could have been a bad time. A bit sudden, maybe."

"Sudden is a good word," Jessica said.

His face fell just the tiniest bit more. "Well, I don't want to pressure you. Is it peer pressure if we aren't the same species? Good question. Er, don't let me...do that. Whether it is peer pressure or just regular pressure. Any pressure." He cleared his throat, jabbed a thumb to the door while straightening up. "I'll just leave you to it, shall I? No rush."

"We didn't say no," Luke pointed out. His voice came tired, and he looked worse than he sounded, but Jessica saw a light in his eye that jerked at her heart. It was something like wonder, or hope, or excitement. Things she all-too-rarely found on Luke's face.

Trish nodded, jerky and uncertain, but she had a spark in her eyes, too.

A grin spread over the Doctor's face, and Jessica found herself very nearly mirroring as something warm and hopeful blossomed in her chest.

"Then let's go pick up Ianto," Jack declared.

* * *

Ianto had a sort of round face, an air of anxiety about him, and a well-worn, sharp suit. He didn't react nearly as badly as the others to the TARDIS' sudden appearance in what Jack had called only "the Hub."

He also took a little bit less convincing to come aboard.

"Come on," Jack said, "pack a bag."

Ianto eyed him, visibly uncertain. His eyes skirted over the rest of them, assembled just behind Jack, crowding the doorway in order to see.

"Don't worry," the Doctor put in, "we're keeping the excitement to a healthy level this time."

"No more mutant killer robot monsters?" Ianto checked, which had Jessica wondering, again, what the hell she was thinking.

"Most likely not," the Doctor hedged. "I don't want to absolutely promise that there won't be - but listen, it's not like you lot are doing any better down here, are you?"

Ianto exchanged another look with Jack, who started smiling.

"Fine," Ianto said, a hesitant smile creeping over his face. "Give me five minutes."

Introductions were made as Ianto re-entered with a small duffel, although Jessica noted that the Doctor kept them vague. He didn't mention where he'd met them, or when, or how. He simply said, "this is Jessica Jones, Trish Walker, Luke Cage-"

And Ianto didn't ask. Didn't even seem surprised. He responded only, "Hello. I'm Ianto. Jones as well, actually."

"Jones and Jones," the Doctor sing-songed. "Maybe we should pick up Martha, too, make it a full trifecta. The holy trinity of Jones. The-"

"It's probably a less good idea to show up at Martha's door unannounced," Jack advised, though he was smiling.

"And she's got Mickey, and a job, I know," the Doctor dismissed. "Maybe later."

Jack linked his arm though Ianto's. "I'll try giving her a call."

"Just like old times," the Doctor said, still grinning.

Jessica leaned against the railing surrounding the console. "You have a lot of friends," she remarked. Trish sat down on the bench a few feet away. Jack and Ianto lingered by the doors, having started a back-and-forth in some European language. Jessica thought she recalled Jack mentioning that Ianto was Welsh, but she couldn't remember exactly.

The Doctor hummed. He turned a couple of dials. "I think you'll like the Ponds," he said. He paused, then sharply looked up, scanning the room. His eyes slowly widened. "It's a couple's cruise."

Jessica glanced to Trish, who smiled bemusedly back. "What?" Jessica asked.

"You and Luke, Jack and Ianto, the Ponds...it's a couple's cruise." Jessica couldn't decide if he looked horrified or amused. She tried to ignore how Luke turned his eyes to the ground when he called them a couple, and her own pain growing in her chest.

Trish laughed, in such a way that Jessica immediately knew she was fighting to change the topic. "Well, I'm still single."

The Doctor turned to her, pointing a finger. "Maybe we'll find you a boyfriend, then."

"In all of time and space?" Trish asked with a grin.

"Naturally. Plenty of fish in the sea. Don't worry, I'll make sure he's human. I know how you lot can get about that kind of thing."

Jessica took a deep breath. "The Doctor's going to find you a space boyfriend," she said. She would have laughed, if it wasn't actually fucking happening.

The Doctor beamed. "That I will."

Jessica looked up to the ceiling again, taking in the color and shine and alien-ness of it all. Her dark clothes, which helped her blend in well in the city crowds, now felt stark and obnoxious against the brightness of the Doctor's ship. It was, strangely, kind of nice.

To be somewhere different. To feel like things had changed. In the weeks the Doctor had been in her apartment, things had started to feel stale and hopeless and dim. And he'd left them in much of the same state, the only difference being the new knowledge they had to contend with.

But now Jessica was leaving. Not just leaving the city, leaving the  _planet_.

The TARDIS shuddered and lurched, but this time Jessica was prepared enough to not go spinning into anyone else.

* * *

'The Ponds' were a young couple named Amy and Rory. Amy was tall and leggy, with shockingly red hair; Rory had an impressive nose and a nervous smile. They dressed nicely, clearly not wanting for money, in warm fall colors. They brought only a suitcase and a laptop bag with them, and they greeted the Doctor like he was their oldest friend.

"We're going ice skating," the Doctor informed them. Amy immediately grinned, while Rory looked a bit skeptical.

"Where'd he find you lot?" Amy asked them all, while the Doctor busied himself at the console.

Jessica wasn't sure where to begin. She glanced to Trish, who was biting her lip. Luke spoke up first, saying, "New York City."

"What year?" Amy pressed, like it was normal. Jessica guessed it was, for her. She leaned against the railing on the stairs, looking them over. "Not too far from us, I'm guessing."

"2015," Luke said.

"What's 2015 like?" Amy asked. "We're 2011, me and Rory."

Jessica's first thought was  _the Incident_ , and she felt Trish go still beside her. Luke, having joined them on the Doctor's bench, stiffened.

"That's not reassuring," Rory muttered.

"The world doesn't end," Luke offered, though his voice was a little rough. "It's an American thing, anyway. You guys...you'll probably be fine."

Amy and Rory exchanged a glance.

"Don't worry about that," the Doctor put in, making them all jump. He didn't sound even the slightest bit concerned. Jessica's nerves itched - he knew how New York had suffered, didn't he? He had to know. If he was a time traveller, he'd have to know. Wouldn't he?

"If you say so," Amy said, though she didn't sound too happy about it.

"No spoilers," the Doctor told her. "Sorry, Pond. TARDIS policy."

"Doctor," Rory complained.

"We're going ice skating," the Doctor repeated. He finally looked up from the console, to fix each of them with a remarkably stern glare. "And we're going to have fun, and not talk about bad things."

"Okay," Trish agreed, all too ready to be done. "There's nothing we can do about it anyway, right?"

The Doctor pointed at her, a smile threatening to emerge. "Exactly right, Trish Walker. Now." He turned a few dials, and moved again to the large lever that would send them off. "Hold on, everyone."

The TARDIS shook, as usual, and that peculiar grating sound filled the room. Amy was smiling again, grabbing at Rory's hand, although she seemed a little more subdued. The Doctor, for his part, seemed to have forgotten it all entirely, as he grinned up at the ceiling with unrestrained joy.

The moment they landed, he was bounding down the stairs, past the Ponds and Jack and Ianto, and throwing open the doors. All Jessica could see from her vantage point by the console was blinding whiteness. A rush of cold air swept into the TARDIS, enough force behind it that Jessica could feel it several yards away.

Jack whistled. The Doctor held his arms out wide, as if trying to embrace the air itself.

"Looks like we'll need boots or something," Ianto remarked.

"Don't be silly," the Doctor said, and started off into the blistering snow.

"Doctor!" Amy called, though she was grinning. Beside her, Rory seemed a little more concerned.

Jessica adjusted her boots, and wound her scarf a little more tightly around her throat. "I'll go after him, I guess," she said. Her jacket would be a little thin, but she would probably live. And she had to admit, she was a little too excited to be on a new planet to care all that much.

"Me and Rory'll take you all to the wardrobe room for some proper coats," Amy declared. "You sure you're okay, Jessica?"

Jessica nodded, even as she was heading down to the doors. "Bring me something?" she asked Trish, who nodded eagerly back.

"Be careful," Luke called, a smile twitching at his lips. Jessica pretended that her heart didn't flip at the acknowledgement.

"I will," she promised, and stepped into the wind, closing the doors behind her. Her feet immediately sunk into snow, deep enough that it started to seep into the tops of her boots. So much for that. She squinted through the blinding light and picked out the Doctor not too far ahead, making his way to a large reflective surface. The promised ice skating, she presumed.

Pulling her scarf up to cover her mouth, she followed the Doctor's footsteps, planting each foot carefully in the prints he'd left in a vain attempt to salvage something of her already-freezing feet. By the time she made it halfway to the frozen lake or pond or whatever it was, the Doctor was already spinning out on the ice and making a fool of himself. It put her a little more at ease.

"Jessica!" he exclaimed, turning himself over to sit on the ice. "Where's everybody else?"

"Being responsible and getting coats," she replied. Her voice came out muffled through the scarf, but the Doctor paid that no mind.

"Bah," the Doctor said, waving his hand disdainfully. Carefully, he stood again, wobbling on the ice. "Who needs  _coats_. Humans are funny."

Jessica ignored the vague jab, and continued walking towards him. "You aren't cold?" she asked doubtfully.

"I don't get cold," the Doctor declared, all too proudly. He skated forward, and immediately fell again, prompting Jessica to smirk at him. He didn't even seem to notice her, too busy attempting to disguise a wince. "This body's a bit less agile than previous ones, though," he admitted. "A little bit...flaily." He then pointed at her. "Don't tell Amy I said that."

Jessica kept smirking. "I won't," she said. She paused as she reached the edge of the ice, crossing her arms over her chest as if that would somehow keep her warmer. Fortunately, the wind was beginning to die down to a less painfully cold level, though her hair still whipped around her face.

"I don't believe you," the Doctor said, but he didn't seem terribly bothered. He got to his feet again, and once he was apparently satisfied with his position, looked up at her and grinned. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"It'll hold our combined weight?" she checked. She peered down at the ice - it was remarkably clear, enough so that she could see down to the sand beneath.

"That's what makes this the best planet for skating!" the Doctor explained, his eyes lighting up. He spun in a cautious circle, somehow managing to keep his balance. "Beautiful clear ice, and incredibly strong. It stays cold like this for the majority of the year - I've never even seen the ice crack, all the times I've been here." He performed another careful spin, slightly faster, and held himself up again. "There are plenty of reliable places on Earth to skate, but it's not nearly as fun."

Jessica had to concede to that. She took a step onto the ice, planting all of her weight on that foot to avoid slipping. She'd learned the technique from her mother, when she had learned to skate as a child. The memory surfaced, unbidden, in a blur of color and cold and her mother's soft laughter.

Distracted by the new pain in her chest, she slipped, and fell flat on her ass on the ice, hard enough that she was sure she would bruise. She found herself staring up at the Doctor, who looked down at her with an oblivious grin. "See?" he said. "Not so easy, is it?"

She pushed the memory away, and glared up at him. "I got distracted," she defended. He backed away while she scrambled awkwardly up, trying to ignore the pain in her tailbone. "I learned to skate when I was a kid."

"You don't act like it," he snarked. She threw a hand out to smack his arm, and in the process of trying to escape, he toppled over. She laughed, and the air was cold and surprisingly refreshing in her lungs. "Oh, hush," he said.

While he got to his feet again, Jessica gazed across the snowy landscape. In all directions, there was nothing but snow, except for the sharp blue of the TARDIS back where they'd come from. Everything was clean, seemingly untouched by any life whatsoever. Besides her and the Doctor's footprints, and the TARDIS on the horizon, there was no sign of life at all.

Having come from the packed streets of the city, it felt like a breath of fresh air. And speaking of - the air was clean, too. Untainted. Free of cigarettes and gas and engine fumes. It didn't feel like another planet, not really - Jessica had seen winters like this in New York, and Central Park in the dead of winter was a beautiful place. But New York winters were never so smooth or silent.

Her eye caught the TARDIS doors opening, and a group of dark figures, clad in puffy coats and long scarves, emerged. Amy and Rory lead the way, only so distinctive because of Amy's hair. Luke, highly visible with his height and dark skin, took up the rear. He raised a hesitant hand in greeting when he saw Jessica staring at him, and she waved hesitantly back.

It felt like things might be okay. At least a little bit. They probably still had a lot of work to do. But he hadn't brought it up, and she wasn't about to start the conversation herself. Not anytime soon.

"Took you long enough!" the Doctor shouted at them.

"Shove off!" Amy shouted back. "Some of us like to be  _warm_ , thank you."

The Doctor made a  _tsk_  noise. He skated to the side, and then back. Showing off, Jessica suspected with a smirk.

The others arrived soon enough, all clambering onto the ice in heavy boots. Trish said, "you look half frozen, Jess," as she handed over the coat she'd brought for Jessica.

"I'm okay," Jessica insisted, even as she shrugged it on. Trish grabbed her hands the moment she was done, and pulled her farther onto the ice. They nearly fell into a snowdrift, and Trish laughed. It was a surprising, happy sound. Jessica couldn't remember when she'd last heard Trish laugh like that.

Jack and Ianto busied themselves performing half-stumbling skating tricks. As much as they could without actual skates, that is. Jack seemed pretty sure of himself, but Ianto was nowhere near as confident. Ianto did most of the stumbling. Jack took it in stride; even seemed to find it charming. Jessica had to admit that it made a cute picture.

Amy pushed the Doctor forward on the ice, and he fell. Rory tumbled over himself as he laughed.

Luke hovered at the edge of the ice, expression unreadable. Jessica's stomach flipped, and she bid Trish a quick,  _one second_ , and headed over to him. He smiled at her, just a little, as she approached him.

"Never learned how to skate?" she asked, hands on her hips. The words felt heavy and uncertain in her mouth, but they came out relatively confident. Breezy, without much of the awkwardness she'd expected.

"I'm from Georgia," he said. It sounded like a confession.

Jessica looked him over, her heart doing an odd skip in her chest, and extended her hands to him. For the first time in what felt like ages, he had trusted her with something. Something small, but it was something. "I'm not an expert," she warned. "I haven't skated in a long time. And you're supposed to actually have skates." She cleared her throat. "So."

The smile twitched, just a bit wider. "It might be easier without them, anyway," he said. "I feel like having to balance on blades is a little more difficult."

Jessica couldn't help but smile herself. "Maybe." He took her hands, and his were warm, despite the cold. Her heart beat strong, loud enough that she could hear it in her ears. She pulled him, slowly, out onto the ice, closer to Trish. They wobbled precariously, but it might have been more related to their collective uncertainty than actual issues with balance.

Jessica would have denied that her breath came a little fast as he crept closer to her, but the truth was that it did. He was close enough to kiss her, now. They hadn't been close like this in days. Not since he'd discovered Kilgrave-or, the Doctor. What she couldn't deny, even to herself, was how relieved she was now.

He moved to hold her in his arms like they were dancing, and a smile forced itself to her lips.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack and Ianto share a quick kiss, before Ianto knocked Jack playfully to the ground. The following curses and laughter floated through the air. On their other side, Trish had joined the Doctor and the Ponds, and was trying to coach him into skating correctly - or, as correctly as he could without actual skates. Amy and Rory watched with twin smirks, which broke into giggles as the Doctor fell again.

Luke pulled her attention back in with a soft murmur. "Can we talk?" he asked. "Later, not right now, just…"

Jessica swallowed her nerves. "Yeah," she whispered back. All of her previous reservations flew out the window. She couldn't say no to Luke, not now. Especially not when he smiled at her - not a forced smile, nothing that promised pain in this future conversation. Warm and hopeful.

"Would it be kind of stupid to say that I missed you?" he asked. He ducked his head a little, in a way that made Jessica's heart twist and her knees go embarrassingly weak. She wondered, for a terrifying moment, how the hell she'd gotten here. With him. "It was only a few days, and I was so pissed. But I did. I was upset, because I thought…"

"You should have been upset," she said. "You, uh. I wouldn't have been surprised if you hated me."

"I don't," he said back, the words coming like a rush. "I really, really don't. Maybe I should."

Jessica swallowed back a lump in her throat. "Maybe."

He met her eyes again, and again that smile returned. "I want to try," he said. "This. Again. I like you, Jessica Jones. Maybe I shouldn't like you, either, but I do. I want to forgive you, despite everything. Maybe that's stupid, but it's the truth."

Her heart pounded. "I like you too. You don't have to forgive me. I don't want you to feel like you have to do that."

He kissed her.

"I want to try," he said again, as they parted.

Jessica was ready to try, too.


	2. Life on Mars

 

The Doctor had immediately invited them all on another outing, and they had all, surprised, agreed. Jack hadn’t seem too shocked, however, and neither had Amy or Rory. So maybe this had been the plan all along. Jessica couldn’t say that she entirely minded.

The longer she could hold onto this feeling - of adventure, of distance, of hope - the better.

The Doctor showed them each to a room - besides Jack, who apparently had one already, which Ianto moved his single bag into, and the Ponds. They were all right next to each other, which Jessica between Luke’s and Trish’s. She’d half hoped that Luke would move in with her, but she supposed the distance was good. They had resolved to try, but that didn’t mean they had to jump the gun and start sleeping together right away.

Maybe this was going to be a  _ real _ relationship.

All the rooms were unexpectedly large. But then, the TARDIS itself was, so maybe that should have been less of a surprise. Jessica hadn’t even known that there had been bedrooms at all until the Doctor had shown them all into the long hallways beyond the console room.

Jessica had a solid dresser made of dark wood, and a wardrobe to go along with it. The bed was huge, and already made up with dark gray sheets and a thick comforter, with a soft throw blanket folded at the foot. It was nice. Thoughtful. Jessica could hardly believe it. There was a bathroom attached to the room as well, fully stocked with hair products and toothpaste and body wash, and the nicest, most confusing shower Jessica had ever laid eyes on.

She wondered, again, how exactly she’d ended up in this position. Was it bad luck, or good luck? Maybe a mix of both.

She went on a trip to the wardrobe room with Trish and Luke to find a few more changes of clothes, and she was struck again by the largeness of it all. The wardrobe room was absolutely gigantic, and full to the brim of all manner of clothes - old Victorian getups and 50s-style dresses, a hatrack piled with the most ridiculous headgear, rows and rows and rows of pants and shirts. Even drawers full of underwear and bras.

They each came away with several shirts and pairs of pants. Trish even made off with a few pairs of shoes.

They returned again before their next trip the next day, to pick up bathing suits, as the Doctor had promised them a beach trip.

“Alien beach,” he said, as they filed into the console room. “Earth beaches are all well and good - but alien beaches are more fun.”

And then he took them to an alien city, on a planet Jessica couldn’t have pronounced the name of if she tried. They got a fair share of strange looks from the population, but it was almost nice to get a few second-glances. Different. They stopped in a nice restaurant for dinner, and stuffed themselves with weird alien foods, and Jessica didn’t even have to worry about the bill.

It felt like a dream - the best kind of dream.

And if Jessica stepped carefully around the Doctor, he didn’t mention it. And if the Ponds noticed, they kept their curiosity to nothing but critical glances.

They assembled for a movie at the end of the day, exhausted and a little sunburnt. Jessica leaned her head on Luke’s shoulder, and her heart fluttered as he leaned into her. It all seemed so fragile, and Jessica expected it to shatter at any moment, but it didn’t. Whether it was going to further in the future was yet to be seen, but for now...it held. Luke joined her in bed that night - they didn’t have sex, but she was fine with just feeling him beside her, having his warmth heat up her covers.

The next morning, they all met for breakfast. Not by any spoken decision, but simply by chance. The Doctor was making coffee for ; Trish had set to work on her usual scrambled eggs. The Ponds were sat at the table, chattering and smiling at each other as young couples do. Trish cracked more eggs into the pan as Jack and Ianto entered the kitchen soon after Jessica and Luke.

They ate together, the Doctor bantering with Jack, Trish exchanging words with the Ponds. Jessica offered a few carefully-considered words of her own into the Doctor’s conversation, and felt an unspeakable relief as he met them cheerfully.

She still wasn’t sure how to act around him. She couldn’t help but feel uncertain about their every interaction, and she had no idea what to make of him. He hadn’t mentioned how they’d met even once so far, nor the events following that. Neither had Jack. They both seemed content to pretend it had never happened. It wasn’t so easy for Jessica, and she suspected Trish and Luke were having similar problems. Luke’s smiles came a little too wooden when aimed in the Doctor’s direction. Trish always spoke a little too shrilly, and her words were always a little unsure.

Jessica figured maybe comfort would simply come in time. But if it never did, she wouldn’t be surprised. After all, when he’d left, the Doctor had been fairly certain he was going to become Kilgrave. And though saying he hadn’t been upset about it would have been an outright lie, he had...come to terms with it? Accepted it? The thought of that twisted Jessica’s stomach. And he’d done it with the aliens, too - let them take their research with an “it already happened.”

She wanted to ask about it, but it felt distant on the TARDIS. It hadn’t happened anyway, after all. Maybe it said some unsavory things about his character, but Jessica could ignore that if it meant she would be seeing the universe. And with a new face and a new body and most of a new personality - he was pretty much a different person, in her head. The Doctor she’d first met and this one were firmly separated in her mind. Two different Doctors entirely. And he seemed to have forgotten about everything completely, anyway.

Still, it stayed on her mind. A thrum of unease that she couldn’t quite get rid of - but it was easily enough ignored.

In any case, she could pretend - it was a skill she’d learned a long time ago. When the Doctor made a joke, she could laugh or scowl in disapproval at him, depending on the situation. When he deflected from any serious conversation, she could go along with it. They distracted themselves with the food, and the promise of adventure.

That night, they went to what the Doctor claimed was “the best stargazing spot in the universe.” Jessica, wrapped in her old jacket, was the last out of the TARDIS, and so was the last to hold back a gasp of surprise as she looked upward. The others had barely made it out of the door, as shocked as they were. Jessica struggled to get out far enough to close the doors behind her.

She could see  _ galaxies _ in the night sky. Swirling patterns of stars in all manner of colors. She could see other planets, even, close enough to be clear outlines against the backdrop of stars; stars that shone so brightly that many of the planets were nothing more than silhouettes.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. She looked to Luke, who still had his head craned backwards. An awed smile stretched over his face, his lips slightly parted. The stars shone in his eyes, lighting them up like diamonds, almost more breathtaking than the scenery. Their light turned his skin the slightest bit silver.

He caught her staring at him, and met her eyes with a wonder-filled grin. Her heart jumped in her chest, just a little bit.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the Doctor said. He stretched his arms out, beaming. “We live in a gorgeous universe!”

Jessica thought of the grimy rags of the homeless on New York City streets; of her dirty apartment, stained with memories she would rather forget; of the sobs of broken-hearted wives over the phone. And Kilgrave. And those same types of things, and worse, existed all over Earth, and surely throughout the universe as well. Perhaps in even greater magnitudes beyond their little planet. And yet, despite all of that, her chest ached with the strength of her agreement as she tilted her head back to see the stars again.

Amy and Rory, with some help from Ianto and Jack, laid out the blankets they’d brought from inside. Luke and Trish passed out glasses of wine. In the warm air, similar to early Earth summer, the glasses were icy, and the wine itself pleasantly cool. It tasted far sweeter than any alcohol Jessica had become accustomed to over the years. She missed, for a moment, her glasses of whiskey. The flask at her belt had long since gone empty. She hadn’t much needed it. But the wine was nice. Different. Another change that separated ‘now’ from ‘then.’

All eight of them crowded onto the blankets, bundling up sweatshirts and jackets to use as headrests, so as to make it easy to lie down and drink at the same time.

“Cheers!” Jack called, and everyone else echoed him. Jessica, crammed between Trish and Luke, clinked her glass against theirs. Jessica watched as the Doctor took a sip of his wine, and then immediately spat it out.

“Doctor,” Amy scolded. He tried again, this time gulping it down with a grimace. “You always do this,” she continued, though she sounded amused.

“Alcohol tastes  _ bad _ ,” the Doctor complained. “It just always surprises me.”

“Don’t be a baby.”

Jessica hid her smile in her glass.

Silence fell as conversation died down and they became distracted again by the sight above them. Or at least, it was silent until the Doctor spoke up, excitedly pointing a finger upward.

“That’s the constellation of Erh-Lang,” he said. “There, it looks like a shield. If you sort of tilt your head. And there, that group of stars is the Disen constellation. Well, that’s what you would call them on Earth. Here, they have other names.” He made a few strange sounds, nasally and high-pitched.

Jessica shook her head, half in amusement, half in disbelief. The Doctor kept listing stars and constellations and galaxies, pointing this way and that, naming them in English and the apparent native language of their current location.

“So you’re a real space expert?” Trish asked, a smile in her voice.

“Oh, absolutely,” the Doctor exclaimed. “I know almost everything about almost every star in the universe! I’ve done my research.”

“Well, you are an alien,” Ianto remarked, bemused.

“I don’t know what I know based solely on the fact that I’m not human, Jones. I may have slightly more knowledge than you lot on Earth simply based on the fact that I can travel further, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn!” the Doctor said. “There are plenty of stars to be seen from Earth. Plenty to learn about.”

“Not everybody has the time,” Ianto pointed out.

The Doctor hummed. “I suppose that’s true. Humans. Very, very...short-lived.” He fell silent, curiously, almost darkly, silent. Jessica thought about what that implied, and then found herself wondering again exactly how old the Doctor was. He made it sound like...

Jack cleared his throat. “Well. I know that one’s called Pele.” He pointed toward a bright reddish star.

“Named after the Hawaiian god of volcanoes,” Luke spoke up. “Because of the red, I assume.”

“Exactly so,” the Doctor jumped in. “It’s got a couple planets, that one. Named after other fire and volcano gods, so it happens. Nice places, but not very habitable. Mineral planets.”

Jessica elbowed Luke, evoking a sideways smile from him. “Since when do you know about Hawaiian gods?”

That smile turned sheepish. “I did a project in school, back when I was a kid. Kind of stuck with me.”

“Well, you lot do love to name things after your gods,” the Doctor said. “Good thing to learn about. History! Heritage! People make careers out of that.”

Luke chuckled, laying back against his wadded-up sweatshirt and taking a sip of his wine. He looked peaceful, glowing slightly silver, the light of the stars still shining in his eyes and on his face.

“What’s that one?” Rory inquired, pointing up.

The Doctor happily obliged him. “That’s part of the Lada Formation - all of the blue there, that’s it. It’s amazing to stand in. The TARDIS fits right in out there.”

The blue swept in a beautiful spiral, distant and bright. It wasn’t too far from Pele, which glinted merrily beside several other constellations. The Doctor named a few more, only pausing to take another wincing gulp of wine.

Jessica pillowed her head on Luke’s chest once her drink was finished. It wasn’t enough alcohol for her to feel anything at all, but it warmed her insides just the slightest bit. Jack made a bad joke, and Amy laughed. Trish asked about a different star, and the Doctor told her what he knew. Jessica listened to Luke’s heart beating steadily under her ear, and closed her eyes.

Silence fell again, for much longer this time. All Jessica could hear was the soft breathing of those around her, and Luke’s heart. The air was turning chilly as the night progressed, and she draped her jacket over her torso like a blanket, pulling her legs in closer.

She opened her eyes again and stared up at the sky. It didn’t get any less amazing. The longer she looked, the more stars she found, the more colors, the more patterns and constellations. It was terrifying and beautiful in equal measure.

“I suppose you’ll want to go home,” the Doctor ventured, more subdued than Jessica had heard him so far. Not unhappy, exactly, but something close. “I’ve kept you for longer than I said I would.”

Jessica mulled this over. The thought of familiarity tempted her - memories of her own bed, of the Hell’s Kitchen streets she knew better than her own face, of the routine of her normal life.

The stars overhead seemed to wink at her.

“Why?” Luke asked.

The Doctor coughed, sounding self-conscious. “I was having fun with you all. It’s been a good time. I figured maybe-”

“No,” Luke interrupted, “why would we want to go home?”

Silence. Then, the Doctor laughed, somewhat nervously. “Well. I don’t know. It’s nice, home. Nice to have a place to...are you saying you want to stay?”

“I think that’s what he’s saying,” Amy piped up. Humor colored her voice. “Come on, Doctor. You know you don’t actually want them to leave.”

“The rest of you, you want to come along?” the Doctor asked. Jessica didn’t expect him to sound so hopeful.

She gazed up at the stars. She could go home. It would be easy, like she had never left. She’d seen the universe, more than anyone else she knew could ever hope to see in their lives. She could be content with heading back.

But it didn’t feel right, not entirely. Something itched at her - maybe it was the need to patch things up with Luke completely before they returned to their normal lives. Or the desire to know more about Jack and the Doctor, and who exactly they were. Or get any kind of answers, at all.

Besides that, though...sure, she’d been to a few places - but there was so much left to see. Looking up at the endless stars, going on and on into eternity, fading into the black of space, solidified that for her.

“Sure,” she said.

Trish, a smile evident by the tone of her voice, pitched in an “absolutely.”

“You know I’m in,” Jack said. “Ianto?”

“I don’t think I’m ready to go back just yet,” Ianto admitted.

The Doctor hummed - a deep, satisfied sound. “Okay,” he said. It sounded like he might be smiling, too. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry it took me so long everyone, the writer's block was intense the past few weeks. But I feel like I'm in a good enough place now with enough of this story to start posting more regularly! :) My school schedule is a little crazy, so at some point I might have to start doing updates every other week, but we'll see about that. So far, so good. For now, I'm planning to update every Tuesday afternoon.
> 
> I hope the wait was worth it, and I hope you're all excited for the next installment! Please let me know what you all thought :)


	3. The Ponds

“Yes, I can come pick you up.” The Doctor’s voice came through just loud enough for Trish to hear in the hall, over the sound of the brush carding through her wet hair. Curious, she approached the door to the console room, peering around to see the Doctor fiddling with the controls, an old-fashioned spiralling cord stretching from some part of the console to something in his hand. A phone, it looked like, and an old model at that. Trish was reminded of weekend evenings in middle school spent locked in her room with the telephone, cord pinched in the doorway.

He continued, “We’ve got guests, too, just so you know. Besides Amy and Rory.” He paused. “There’s Jack, who I think you’ve met by now. His partner Ianto. Some new friends of mine, Jessica and Luke and Trish. No, Trish is single.” Trish raised an eyebrow. “Well, I didn’t mention that, no.” Another lengthy pause. “I’m going to set her up, anyhow. Space boyfriend, Jessica called it.” He laughed. “Don’t we all. No, don’t worry, just you. I’m the space boyfriend.” He moved to the typewriter, and in the process happened to look up and spot Trish in the doorway. “Oh, Trish is up. Hullo Trish!”

She waved at him, not bothering to hide her curious expression, and he grinned.

“Yes, I’ll be there soon,” he said. “I’ll give you an hour or two to get your things around. How long are you wanting to stay? We can play it by ear, that’s fine. Okay. Bye.” He hung up with a flourish, and spun in place. “Trish Walker, how are you?”

Eyebrows still raised, Trish joined him by the console. “I’m good,” she said. “Who was that?”

She thought for sure she was mistaken when she saw him go a little red. But sure enough, when she looked again, his cheeks had flushed. “Er, a friend,” he replied.

“Girlfriend?” Trish asked. “Boyfriend?”

“Something like that,” the Doctor said with a bit of a sigh. “So nosy. Well, you’ll meet her in a few minutes anyway, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Where’s everyone else?”

He was obviously deflecting, but Trish wasn’t practiced enough at keeping him on topic - when she’d done it while he’d been stuck at Jessica’s, it had never ended too well. And even here, her attempts to get solid answers didn’t appear to be improving. The other day, when she’d asked him about going to see his home planet, she hadn’t been able to squeeze more than a wishy-washy “we’ll see” out of him about it. She wasn’t sure how to do it tactfully. She felt sometimes as if she could barely hold a tension-free conversation with him. But she intended to learn.

“Last I knew, having breakfast,” she told him. “I left them at it to take a shower. They could be anywhere by now.”

“Jack’s in the kitchen,” the Doctor said absently, turning his attention back to the typewriter. He punched in a series of words and numbers, turned a couple of dials, flipped a few switches.

Trish shook her head. “That gives me the creeps,” she admitted. He gave her a slight smile.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. It’s honestly quite fun,” he said. “Nice party trick.”

Trish smiled. “I guess.”

“I assume the others are nearby. Care to round them up for me?” Now he was trying to get rid of her. Well, they weren’t exactly friends, although it had warmed Trish’s heart a little to hear him call her one on the phone. Acquaintances, maybe, working their way towards an understanding. It was hard to put the past behind them, at least for Trish. The Doctor seemed unbothered. But then, it had apparently been much longer for him. She still wasn’t sure how to proceed with their developing relationship.

Anyway. He probably just wanted to be alone to meet his girlfriend, or whoever she was. Trish could understand that. She wasn’t sure she wanted to even be there for that. “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll get them around.”

He grinned.

Sure enough, the others were where Trish had left them, although their plates were now piled in the sink and they’d resorted to idle chit-chat at the table. Jessica and Luke sat close together, elbows touching. Amy and Rory were not nearly so discreet, Amy half on Rory’s lap. Jack was cleaning dishes while Ianto nodded at something Rory was saying.

Trish knocked on the counter as she entered, prompting them all to pause and look up at her. “It sounds like we’re going to head off pretty soon,” she announced. “The Doctor sent me to get you guys together.”

“He couldn’t come do it himself?” Amy asked, eyebrows lifting. “What’s he up to?”

Just as she spoke, the kitchen shook, just a tremor of a movement. Trish had no idea why the rest of the ship experienced only a fraction of the displacement as the console room - the Doctor had fudged the details a little - but the small movement was enough to tip her off that they’d landed somewhere.

“Visiting a girlfriend, sounded like,” Trish said. “I suspect he’s doing it as we speak.”

Immediately, Amy and Rory straightened up, eyes widening. A smile broke over Amy’s face. “River!” they exclaimed, in unison.

“I take it you’ve met, then,” Jessica gathered, dryly.

Rory coughed, face going oddly red. “Yeah, uh. A few times.”

Amy patted him on the back. “Well, I think we’re allowed to go say hello. The rest of you lot - we’ll see you down there, yeah?” She and Rory hopped up and headed out the door, apparently heedless of the fact that they were still in pajamas.

The others got up, somewhat reluctantly, and vanished into their respective rooms. Trish, already dressed, simply dropped her brush off on her dresser and made her way back to the console room.

She heard them before she even made it to the doorway - a woman’s laugh, and the Doctor’s voice. Then, Rory, making a choking noise.

“You’d think you would be used to it by now,” the woman teased. She had an English accent, too, like the Doctor. “We aren’t even too terribly gross. We could be much worse. Don’t get me started on you two-”

“We get the picture,” Amy interrupted, half laughing. “Don’t mind him.” As Trish rounded into the doorway, she saw Amy embracing a figure with a head full of wild blonde hair.

The moment the two pulled apart, the new woman was looking up at Trish, a smile already on her face. She was older, Trish immediately noticed, probably late forties or so. Mischievous brown eyes, face full of expertly-applied makeup. She wore a practical outfit - form-fitting black pants and a red top, completed with a pair of tall black boots. “Hello there,” she said, smile only growing as Trish descended the stairs to the console.

“Hello,” Trish replied, smiling back. “I’m Trish Walker.”

They shook, and the woman returned, “River Song. Nice to meet you.”

“And you.” Trish glanced toward the Doctor, who watched the both of them expectantly, almost anxiously. “So. Are you two together, then?”

The Doctor made a sort of spluttering noise, but River just laughed. “Are we that obvious?” she asked, looping an arm around the Doctor’s shoulders and dragging him closer to her.

“I might have been interrogating the Doctor earlier,” Trish admitted. “He wouldn’t give me a straight answer.”

River released the Doctor, and playfully smacked his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re ashamed of me!” she teased.

The Doctor flushed. “Don’t be silly.” Trish had never seen him so flustered before, hadn’t even imagined he could  _ get _ this flustered.

“Where’s everyone else?” Amy asked.

“I imagine they’re getting dressed,” the Doctor piped up, with a pointed look at Amy’s dolphin-printed pajama pants that earned him another light smack on the arm, this time from Amy.

“He does have a point,” River added. “I don’t know that pajamas make a particularly good adventuring outfit.”

“Adventuring?” Trish asked, heart jumping.

River grinned. “Of course. What  _ else _ would we be doing?”

“We’ve been trying to keep things tame,” the Doctor told her. “Minimal running.”

“We’ve done  _ no _ running,” Amy said, crossing her arms. “I almost miss it.”

Rory winced. “Now you’ve done it.” Trish started to wonder what, exactly, she was getting herself into here.

River’s grin turned to a near-devilish smirk. “Well, that settles it then,” she declared. “A real adventure is in order.” She spun to the console, eyes glinting, and ran her hands over it contemplatively. “Hmm. I’m thinking...we should let the TARDIS decide.”

“Oh, she’ll throw us in a volcano that way,” the Doctor quipped. Trish frowned. She opened her mouth to question the ‘she’ remark, but was cut off as the floor suddenly rumbled underneath their feet. Reflexively, she grabbed at the nearest railing, but the rumbling died down almost immediately. The Doctor pressed a hand to the cylinder rising up from the console and soothed, “Sorry, dear. You don’t have the best track record, though, you know that.”

No one else seemed perturbed by the rumbling. Amy and Rory were  _ laughing _ .

“What the hell was that?” Trish blurted, though she felt like perhaps she already knew.

River grinned at her. “The TARDIS. Didn’t the Doctor mention? She’s alive.”

Maybe she should have been more shocked, but Trish couldn’t summon up anything more than a faint surprise. “So the rooms really do move,” she managed. “I wasn’t imagining that.”

“Yeah, she does that on occasion,” the Doctor chimed in. “I should have mentioned, you know, but it slipped my mind.”

“When did you become such a terrible host, Doctor?” River chided, poking him sharply in the ribs.

“I’m a fantastic host,” the Doctor insisted, crossing to the other side of the console to avoid further contact.

Someone from the top of the stairs laughed. Jack. “I don’t know about that,” he chuckled. “You almost let me set the whole library on fire once, don’t you remember?”

“I was  _ busy _ ,” the Doctor informed him, jabbing a finger at his approaching friend. Trish caught Jessica’s eye, where she stood with Luke behind Jack and Ianto. There was a light of good humor there Trish hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Everybody,” Amy announced, “this is River. River, meet Jack, Ianto, Jessica, and Luke.”

“Oh, I’ve met Jack,” River purred, a devilish grin on her face to rival the Doctor’s.

Jack patted Ianto’s shoulder. “Not like that,” he said, though he was grinning. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, back to River. Despite his claims, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oi!” the Doctor exclaimed, going red again. His hands fluttered uselessly, as he visibly struggled with what he was meant to do about this situation. Trish, for her part, understood  _ exactly _ what Jack had done what he had - seeing the Doctor so frustrated was undeniably amusing.

Sure enough, Jack waved the Doctor off with a dismissive, “it’s just fun to get a rise out of you, Doc.” River laughed.

“I feel incredibly outnumbered,” the Doctor muttered. With a dark glance at Jack, he sidled back over to River and clasped a hand loosely around one of hers. Her grin only grew in magnitude.

“I suppose we’ll go get dressed,” Rory chimed in. “Adventuring clothes, you said?” There was a certain amount of resigned uncertainty in his tone, but Trish managed to detect the unmistakable twinge of excitement accompanying it.

The Doctor exchanged a glance with River, in which she nodded encouragingly, that mischievous smile still pasted on her face. “Yes!” the Doctor decided. “Adventuring clothes.”

“Adventuring where?” Luke piped up. He released Jessica’s hands to cross his arms. Trish hid a smile as she saw Jessica (seemingly unconsciously) mimicking him.

River leaned toward them a little, bending over the console. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“Randomizers on,” the Doctor announced, flicking a few switches. He then pressed a hand to the cylinder rising out of the console. “Be nice to us, dear.”

The Ponds returned shortly, clad in clothes meant for good weather but toting along thick winter coats. “Adventuring clothes,” Amy told them all, knowingly, as she caught their confused expressions.

Trish eyed her own jeans-and-t-shirt getup. “Maybe I should change.”

“Ah, it’ll be fine,” the Doctor assured. “The TARDIS will take it into account. She’s considerate like that.”

Before anyone else could question the TARDIS’ state of existence, he threw the take-off lever, and the room shuddered with all its usual drama.

“You never use the stabilizers!” River chided over the grinding noise.

“There are stabilizers?” Jessica demanded. “What the hell, Doctor?” Trish had to agree, as she nearly toppled over and bashed her head on the railing.

“It’s more fun this way!” the Doctor called back, grinning madly.

Well. Trish supposed he was right about that, at least.

* * *

In the aftermath, Trish was unable to think about much else besides her wobbly legs, made useless from frantic running. But she was also full of a sleepy contentment like little else that she’d felt before - the kind of contentment that only came after doing something good and productive.

Such as overthrowing a totalitarian government, which was...nothing something she had much experience with. Or hadn’t had, up until now.

“Tea?” Trish blinked, tearing herself away from the blank gaze she’d had directed at the kitchen table to look up at River’s smiling face. The woman was half-turned away, already setting several mugs on the counter by the stove.

Trish smiled back. “Sure. What kind?”

River hummed, and headed to a different cupboard. “Earth tea or alien tea? We have...Earl Grey, green, knoxknarlian root-”

“Chamomile?” Trish tried. She craned her head over enough to catch a glimpse into the cupboard, and saw nothing but shelves and shelves and shelves of tea. Unless she was mistaken, the cupboard was far bigger on the inside than it appeared…

River reached an arm in up to her armpit, and pulled out a shiny gray box of teabags. “Nice and soothing,” she said, “good idea.” She set a pot of water to boil. “A snack or anything for you?”

Now that she mentioned it, Trish’s stomach had been protesting faintly in the background for some time. “Sure,” Trish agreed. “Thanks. Earth food, if you don’t mind.”

River chuckled, already hunting through the cupboards. “Not at all.”

Trish propped her chin on her hand, and set her elbow on the tabletop. She sleepily watched River move about the kitchen, only realizing that she’d been on her way to dozing when the whistling kettle startled her.

River poured them each a mug, leaving a few remaining on the counter, and sat across the table from Trish with a sigh, setting a plate of crackers between them. Gratefully, Trish accepted the mug as it was offered to her, and wrapped her hands eagerly around its heat.

“Tired?” River said, nothing but smiles and sympathy.

Trish smiled back. “Very. But it’s a good tired.”

River hummed in agreement. She cupped her own hands around her tea and sighed again. “I’m glad it all went well today,” she said. “We’ve been known to get in a spot of trouble in situations like this.” That sympathy turned just a little bit wicked. “You were quite impressive though.”

“I did track for a minute in middle school,” Trish admitted.

“I was more talking about the dressing down you gave that minister, but the running was good, too,” River smirked. Trish felt her cheeks heat a little, despite herself.

“I have a radio show,” she explained. “I’ve had a few lively debates with some callers.”

River laughed. “I can imagine. In any case, I respect your backbone.”

Trish grinned. “Thanks.” She took an experimental sip of her tea, and although it burned her tongue it tasted so delicious she hardly cared. River copied her, eyes dancing happily. “So. How did you meet the Doctor?”

She’d thought it would be a safe topic of conversation - River and the Doctor were very obviously happy - so she was caught off guard when the smile fell from River’s face and the woman turned her eyes to the table. She was quiet for so long that Trish opened her mouth to take it back, but the apologies never made their way out.

“We have a sort of complicated past,” River revealed. She hid the hitch of pain in her voice well, but Trish had too much practice seeing past Jessica’s walls to miss it. River was remarkably like Jessica, Trish thought. “He’s a time traveller, so...we aren’t exactly in order.” At last, the woman looked up, and the depth of sorrow in her eyes made Trish’s heart ache with profound sympathy. “His past is my future, and vice versa.”

Trish had nothing else to offer but a weak, “I’m sorry.” She decided to distract herself with a cracker, hoping it might somehow diffuse the tension.

River’s mouth quirked up on one side, and she shook her head with a wild flying of blonde hair. “I shouldn’t be dumping all this on you,” she said with remarkable good humor. “We’ve only just met.”

“We did bring democracy to an alien planet together,” Trish pointed out, fighting for something equally light-hearted. “I think that makes us fairly close.”

River’s slight smile widened by a fraction. “You do have a point.” She took a sip of her tea, and Trish followed suit. “I tried to kill the Doctor when I first met him.”

Trish nearly did a spit take, but instead burned her throat as she hastily gulped down the tea.

“Exactly,” River said. Somehow she was still smiling. “It’s a strange story. I won’t bore you with the details, but at that time in my life I was fully convinced that he was evil. It didn’t help that he’d done a fabulous job of disappointing my mother.”

Turning this over mentally didn’t give Trish any new information, so she ventured forward with a question. “Your mother?”

River eyed her, a kind of thoughtfulness in her eyes that made Trish itchy. “My mother met the Doctor when she was very young. She thought he was magic. He had to leave her not long after they met, but he told her he would be back for her in five minutes. He promised to take her on an adventure.” She paused to take another sip of her drink, and the silence had Trish twitching. “He was gone for twelve years.”

Trish supposed this meant River was human, then. She’d wondered if she was the same species at the Doctor, but apparently not.

“She was a lonely child,” River revealed. She dug a nail into the grain of the table, her smile fading at last. “She never really gave up on him, but his departure made her cynical. She convinced herself for the longest time that he was nothing but her imaginary friend. She called him her Raggedy Doctor. When he finally did come back, she was a woman, with a fiance, my father, and a normal human life.” The smile returned in full force. “But she still ran off with him, and later brought my father along, too. In the long run, he made her life better. But when I was young, I had outside influences persuading me otherwise. By the time I met him, those...influences...had quite a hold on me.”

Trish nodded. “That sounds really difficult. I’m sorry.”

“We’re all here now, aren’t we?” River asked, brightening up further, though the sadness lingered. “It’s all ended relatively well, at least for now. I’m happy.”

Trish smiled, as much as she could. “I’m glad.”

“Now,” River said, leaning forward a little. “Let’s move on to some more  _ interesting _ topics, shall we? What about  _ your _ love life, Trish Walker?”

Trish groaned.

* * *

After nearly a week spent on the TARDIS, Trish was beginning to run out of borrowed clothes, and she wasn’t keen on the idea of simply wearing an entirely new outfit everyday. It felt wasteful. The second Rory informed her that there was an entire laundromat hidden somewhere in the depths of the wardrobe room, Trish abandoned the movie she had been half watching with him, Jessica, and Luke, and rushed off to do some much-needed laundry.

Laundry had always been a secret pleasure of hers. She had enough money by now to be able to hire people to do it for her, but she’d always found something relaxing about the steady motions of forming warm clothes, and the hum of the washing machine, and the time it gave her to think. However, her plans were interrupted as she entered the wardrobe with her hamper full of dirty clothes and found Amy and River there, pawing through the many racks of dresses.

“Hey Trish,” Amy called over her shoulder. She then plucked a frilly blue number off its rack and turned to display it in Trish’s direction. “Do you think this is too much?”

It was blinding in color, and the frills were definitely a distraction, but it certainly wasn’t ugly. “Maybe a little too much,” Trish hedged. “I’m not a fan of the frills.”

“That’s high fashion on High-Teven-Eight,” River informed them, hands on hips.

“But you have to admit it’s a bit crazy for a dinner date,” Amy insisted. “And look at these  _ straps _ , River.” She tugged at one of at least twenty. “You’ll get yourself all tied up.”

“Getting into it, or out?” River smirked. Trish nearly choked as she tried to hold back a laugh.

At the same time, Amy looked scandalized. “I do  _ not _ want to hear about  _ any _ of that,” she decided. “The less I have to think about the Doctor and sex, the better.” River laughed.

Trish decided to leave the laundry for the moment, and set the hamper down to give her arms a break. “Are you and the Doctor going out?”

River turned to her, grinning. “Oh, yes.”

“Space restaurant,” Amy said, rifling through more dresses. “I still don’t know where it is, exactly, but River’s excited about it.”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” River said, “it’s fabulous. I’ve heard wonderful things about it. Supposedly, you can see entire galaxies no matter where you sit. And they’ve got legendary garlic bread.”

“Yum,” Trish agreed.

Amy picked out another dress, this time golden and sleek, with the faintest shimmer in the skirt. “Ooh,” she said. “Look at this, River.”

Immediately, River replied, “I’ll look like Belle, from Beauty and the Beast.”

Amy barked out a laugh. “So the Doctor’s the beast, then?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Trish grinned. “What about that one?” She stepped forward, pointing to a pretty red thing that had caught her eye from the start.

“I’ve got matching lipstick for that,” River said, before anything else. She took the fabric in her hands and examined it before taking its hanger off the rack.

“That’s stunning,” Amy declared. “I vote for that one.”

A slow smile spread over River’s face. “I do like it,” she admitted.

Amy’s expression softened. She settled a hand across River’s shoulders. “I feel like I’m getting you ready for a first date or something,” she said, her voice hushed enough that Trish began to feel like she was intruding.

River kissed Amy’s cheek. “Not the first time, is it?”

Amy drew back, her own smile widening despite something painful growing in her eyes. “No. No, you’re right.”

River cleared her throat, looking back to Trish. “Go start your laundry,” she suggested, “then you can come back and help me get ready, hm?”

Trish smiled. “If you want, sure.”

“If Jessica wants to come, she can,” Amy added. “We can make it an event. Girls’ night.”

“I’ll invite her,” Trish said. She couldn’t actually recall a time that Jessica had ever really  _ enjoyed _ events like that, but she had vague recollections of senior prom, and Jessica’s nervous laughter as they put on their dresses.

It could be nice.

* * *

Trish didn’t realize how much she missed little get-togethers like these until she was in the midst of one. As she laughed at another of River’s well-timed jokes, it dawned on her that she hadn’t had any real close friends besides Jessica in a long time. And even then, Jessica had fallen off the map for a while because of Kilgrave, and Trish had been mostly on her own for longer than she ever had before.

Maybe she didn’t know Amy or River all that well, and she was just beginning to truly repair her friendship with Jessica, but she had the sense that this could be a good thing. For all of them, maybe.

“Okay, stop fussing,” River ordered, gently moving Amy’s hands away from her face. “You’ll smudge my eyeliner if you keep at it.”

“Maybe it needs a little smudging,” Amy insisted.

“You’ll make her look like a raccoon that way,” Jessica put in, smirking.

“She was quite fond of that look back in the day,” River said, before Amy hurriedly shushed her. Trish giggled.

“Not  _ raccoon eyes _ ,” Amy pressed. “Smokey eye, River! I was a model, I know about things like this.”

River scoffed. “I’ve already gone and married him. I don’t need to go too crazy.”

Jessica spluttered. “You’re married. You have to be kidding.”

Another of those wicked smiles spread over River’s face. “Oh, we’re  _ very _ married.”

Trish barked out a laugh, unable to hide her surprise. She tried to picture the Doctor at a wedding, but her imagination failed her.

“Fine, I’ll leave it,” Amy relented, stepping back at last. “Turn around, let me zip you up.”

“You look great,” Trish put in, as River faced them. The dress was slender, but cut rather short, with enough skirt to make it look playful rather than the overdressed look Trish had somewhat expected. River beamed.

Jessica raised her glass, and tapped it against River’s.

“We should do this more often,” Amy decided. “I know you’ll probably be headed home, soon, River, but at least the three of us. Trish, Jessica.” She gave each of them a close-mouthed, hopeful smile. Trish replied in kind, a similar look taking over her own face. But Jessica, true to form, took a gulp of wine and nodded noncommittally. Trish didn’t miss how Amy’s face fell minutely as she looked away to fiddle with River’s dress again. Trish wished there was a way to communicate telepathically with her somehow, to tell her that Jessica was just bad at starting relationships, that it wasn’t her fault.

But she wasn’t about to say anything in front of Jessica, and they were already moving on.

Something tapped on the door, loud enough that Trish winced, and the Doctor’s voice boomed, “River Song!”

A glance to the entrance revealed him there, clad in a different coat, a long green thing, but without any other visible changes besides a crimson bow tie that nearly perfectly matched River’s dress. He only barely took note of the rest of them, eyes locking on River.

“Hello, sweetie,” she replied, eyes lighting up. “You look nice.”

Behind the Doctor, Rory stepped into view. “You two are going to be safe, aren’t you?”

“Don’t worry, no shenanigans,” the Doctor promised, ascending the steps. He took River’s hands in his and moved close so that their foreheads nearly touched. “You look nice, yourself, Dr. Song.”

“You two are disgusting,” Jessica declared. Trish saw Rory give her an approving, understanding look.

“Now that we’ve finished disturbing you, we’ve got places to be,” the Doctor said, pulling back from River to smirk at them. “We’ve already landed, we need to run if we’re going to make our reservation.”

“Okay, Raggedy Man, run off,” Amy sighed, waving a hand at him to come closer to her, which he did without hesitation. “Don’t be out all night, you two.” She pressed a swift kiss to his forehead, and then to River’s. Rory kissed River’s cheek.

_ She called him her Raggedy Doctor, _ Trish remembered River saying about her mother, and a weird suspicion began to tickle at the back of her mind. But no, that was impossible. She watched Amy’s young face exchanging a radiant smile with River’s older one.

“Night, Ponds,” the Doctor called behind him as he and River skipped down the stairs. “Jessica, Trish.”

“Night, everyone!” River echoed.

“Goodnight,” Trish managed to say, and then they were gone.

Amy caught her eye, and an expectant smile spread over the other woman’s face. “Movie night?” she asked.

\-----------

As Amy had predicted, River came to breakfast that morning ready to return home, wherever (and whenever) that was for her.

“I’m all packed” was the first thing she said as she relaxed into her chair at the table with a cup of coffee.

“You’re going home today?” Luke asked, idly swirling a spoon through his own cup.

“Unfortunately, yes,” River sighed. “I try to keep my visits here short, simply on principle.”

“Couldn’t the Doctor just take you back to the day you left?” Ianto pointed out between mouthfuls of toast.

River’s smile turned slightly pained. “Despite his driving issues, I’m sure he could manage it. It’s more due to personal reasons than anything else.” She kept her gaze aimed at the table as she took a sip of her drink, and Trish felt her heart twinge in sympathy.

She could only guess at what these “personal reasons” were, but she suspected it was due to River and the Doctor’s complicated relationship timeline. What River had implied when she’d said  _ his past is my future, and vice versa _ was not exactly pleasant. Trish imagined there was only so much time that they had together - hence the Doctor’s elaborate dinner date, and the way he bowed to River’s every whim with nothing more than obligatory protests, and the way they looked at each other.

“Will we see you again?” Trish asked, forcing her mind to more hopeful ideas.

River glanced up at her, warmth in her eyes. “I do hope so. I’ve had fun with you all, the past few days. It’s refreshing, having so many people aboard.”

“The Doctor’s a bit of a loner, is he?” Jessica smirked.

“Not by choice,” River said, after another long sip. She sounded bitter, but she moved on before Trish could speak up about it. “Anyway, I’ll try to come visit when you all are here. I can never be sure of when I’ll meet the Doctor again. Could be before he brought you all on board, could be long after you’re gone.” She gave them a knowing grin. “I’ll ask him if he’s been to New York City recently.”

“Mention Hell’s Kitchen specifically,” Trish put in. “Little bit more exact.”

River inclined her head, raising her mug in acknowledgement. “Will do.”

At that exact moment, a blur of tweed swept into the room, and headed immediately for the fridge.

“Morning, Doctor,” River greeted. She hid her smile in her cup.

“Morning,” he said back, though it sounded as if it came automatically, without thought. “I’m starved, me and Jack spent all night trying to fix the microwave oven in kitchen number nine. Or, mostly me, rather, Jack might have fallen asleep on the floor at some point. It was awhile ago.” He half-vanished into the refrigerator, pawing through enough items to make Trish’s head spin.

“You let my boyfriend fall asleep on the floor,” Ianto repeated, nearly horrified.

“I was busy,” the Doctor dismissed, not unkindly. “He’s fine, up now. Might be a bit sore, but he didn’t  _ die _ . Not that that would knock him out for long anyhow.”

Ianto pursed his lips, but some of the outrage dissipated.

“I thought you were a ‘great host,’” Trish said. She couldn’t help but snicker at him as he froze, and then slowly straightened up and turned to glare at her.

“Jack didn’t  _ have _ to stay up,” he pointed out. “I told him to go to bed at least once.”

Jack himself announced as he entered, “I was  _ trying _ to have a conversation with you, Doctor. I wasn’t sticking around because I love to repair toaster ovens.”

The Doctor aimed a pointedly self-satisfied look at Ianto. “See? Not dead. Very much alive, in fact.”

“Ta-da,” Jack deadpanned. And then, as he stretched out his arms to do jazz hands, he winced. “I’m getting too old to spend the night on the floor,” he complained.

“You don’t get older,” the Doctor shot back, once again buried in the contents of the refrigerator.

“If you two are done,” River said, voice dry but nonetheless amused, “I’m looking to head home soon.”

The Doctor emerged from the fridge again, this time holding a container of what looked like yogurt, and an expression on his face like that of a hesitant child. “Time’s up, then?” he guessed. He kept his eyes firmly on his food as he peeled the lid off and set it on the counter.

River swallowed. “I think now’s a good time, yes.”

The Doctor dug through a drawer and retrieved a spoon. “I suppose it is. Well, let’s all eat, and then Amy and Rory can see you off.”

“Thank you,” River said, although the look on her face was anything but grateful.

Jessica coughed, and Trish quickly elbowed her. “Hey,” Jessica snapped. She then turned her attentions to the Doctor and River, while Trish ducked her head. “Look, you two, can we leave off on a good note? Please?”

River straightened up in her chair, just a little. And despite the previous pain on her face, she smiled. “That’s probably a good idea. After all, we might not see each other again. I’d rather spend the next little while we have in a good mood.”

“Fair point,” the Doctor sighed. “Look at you, Jessica Jones. Telling us to  _ cheer up _ .” He huffed a little. “Have we entered into an alternate universe again?”

Jessica made a face at him.

“What shall we do, then?” River prompted. She slapped a hand to the table. “One last trip? Just a nice breakfast?”

“Let’s go to Starspot Delta!” the Doctor exclaimed. His eyes lit up as if he’d discovered some sort of treasure. “Ooh, that’s a treat, that. Lovely spot. I don’t think you’ve been, River.”

“What’s Starspot Delta?” Luke inquired.

“Beautiful!” the Doctor proclaimed. “The most beautiful place this side of the universe, in my humble opinion. You can see at least four other galaxies in just the one spot - and we can make it a lazy day, since we don’t even have to leave the TARDIS.”

“You, having a lazy day?” Jack asked with a smirk.

The Doctor abandoned his yogurt on the counter to cross his arms. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Captain Harkness, but we have had  _ plenty _ of lazy days since you’ve all been on board. Plenty. Too many. More than I have ever had before.”

“Because you’re a good host,” River put in.

The Doctor pointed at her. “Quite right.”

“Thank you so very much for not actively trying to kill us,” Jessica snarked. Jack coughed a laugh. The Doctor glared impressively. Trish hid yet another smile in her coffee, which was quickly going cold.

“So,” Ianto interrupted. “Starspot Delta?”

\--------

They said their goodbyes after the TARDIS had landed in River’s home - not tearful ones, but nonetheless sad. River hugged everyone who would allow her, and gave a friendly handshake to those who were a little more trepidacious about physical contact.

They were  _ friends _ , Trish realized with a jolt. She’d hardly known River for a week, and yet they were well on their way to an enjoyable friendship. As River turned from the Doctor’s new passengers to the Ponds, Trish was so wrapped up in her new discovery that she almost missed the words the group of them exchanged.

“Give us a call, won’t you?” Amy was saying, a definite pout in her voice.

“I don’t have an upgraded phone,” River said back, gently, her hands on Amy’s upper arms and a sad smile on her face.

“Then we’ll call you,” Rory decided, leaning a little closer. “We should get the right date, right?” He spun to shoot a stern look at the console, where the Doctor was fussing around with the controls in what Trish assumed was an attempt to give them space. “Doctor?”

Though he’d obviously been listening, the Doctor did a good impression of ‘distracted.’ “What? Oh, yes, you should be fine. So long as you plug in the right time, you’ll get it.”

“What’s this about an upgraded phone?” Jessica pried, poking the Doctor hard in the shoulder.

“Time and space phone,” the Doctor explained, but Trish became distracted by the events at the doorway once more, and tuned him out.

“Okay,” River was saying, smiling at Rory now. “You call me.” She then wrapped him in a hug. “Be safe, you two,” she ordered as she drew back. “Make sure the Doctor stays on track with this ‘limited trouble’ plan of his.”

Amy snickered. “We’ll try. But you know how he is.”

In response, River rolled her eyes. “Oh, do I.”

“You be safe, too,” Amy said, as she pressed a hand to River’s cheek. “Stay out of trouble, Melody Pond, or...or else.”

“Yes, Mum,” River said back, though the grin on her face betrayed her true intentions - she wasn’t going to listen at all. Amy kissed her forehead.

“You’re  _ joking _ ,” Luke blurted. He pushed off of the rail where he’d been leaning. Trish had to agree with him - she could hardly believe her eyes.

The Ponds - all three of them, apparently - turned to look. Rory wore a grimacing sort of smile, while Amy and River had devilish smirks that matched down to the turn of their eyebrows. And suddenly, Trish couldn’t help but wonder how in the hell she’d missed it before.

“It’s a long,  _ long _ story,” the Doctor interrupted, half-leaping down the stairs to the ground level and almost knocking a surprised Ianto over in the process. “Sorry, Jones. River, let me walk you out.”

“How romantic,” River said with a dramatic flutter of eyelashes. Rory facepalmed, but Amy only giggled. River accepted the arm the Doctor offered her, and the two of them whispered to one another as they exited the TARDIS. The only impression Trish got before the door closed behind them was darkness, and slime. She felt another of those sympathetic twinges for River, which she quickly smothered. She hadn’t known River for long, but she was certain the woman wouldn’t want any of her pity, no matter how appropriate it might be.

Rory wrapped an arm around his wife, which she leaned into with a loud sigh. Trish guessed that she’d get an explanation at some point, but for the moment she was left with a spinning head and a dozen questions all fighting to get out at once.

The Doctor returned in only a minute, beaming absurdly. He closed the TARDIS doors behind him and bounded up the stairs.

“You okay, Doc?” Jack asked, patting Ianto’s arm before leaving him to head up to the console.

“Fine,” the Doctor said. Already, his hands flew over the console. “Why don’t we head to New New York, hm?”

Although Jessica had that squint like she was seeing right through him, she still asked, “New New York?”

“Yes! Lovely place. Be nice, yeah, to see your city long after you’ve all died?”

Trish wrinkled her nose. At the same time, Luke said, “Cheerful.”

“That’s me,” the Doctor muttered, almost inaudible. Louder, he continued, “So, what do we think? They have fantastic ice cream.” He finally looked up from the controls with a manic sort of grin, and Trish felt herself giving in, mostly out of sympathy.

“I’m always up for ice cream,” she admitted. She smiled at him, as genuine as she could manage. “But you three are going to explain yourselves when we get there.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Luke stressed.

“Oh, fine, fine. That’s a fair compromise,” the Doctor agreed. “So!” He turned a couple of dials. “Geronimo!”

He flipped the lever, and despite the sorrowful goodbye, Trish couldn’t stop herself from grinning as she held on for dear life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Please let me know what you're all thinking, I love hearing from you guys, as always! :)


	4. Jessicas

**Chapter 4: Jessicas**

 

Amy got the impression, right off, that she and Jessica were rather similar. More so than they were different. Rory didn’t entirely believe her when she brought it up - “She seems nice,” he’d said, “but you have to admit that she’s a lot more cynical than you’ve ever been” - but Amy saw a likeness of herself on Jessica’s face, and she was eager to explore that as they got to know each other.

Unfortunately, Jessica didn’t seem to feel at all the same way.

Amy invited her to get River ready for her date, and while Jessica came along willingly enough, she only spoke enough to get a few snarky quips in, and there was been very little of the female bonding Amy had intended. Not that it wasn’t fun, but...Amy’d been hoping for something a little more meaningful than the friendly small talk they’d ended up exchanging.

After that failure, Amy made an extra effort of including Jessica in every event on the TARDIS, however minor. When she and Rory started getting hungry in the evenings, one of the first thing she did (after peeking her head into the console room to cajole the Doctor into finishing up whatever he was doing, because god knew if she didn’t start bothering him at least an hour before mealtime he wouldn’t show up until it was nearly over, and even if he didn’t eat it was about being  _ together _ ) was track down Jessica to personally tell her they were going to start on dinner, and to ask if she had any requests. Jessica would usually say no, and sometimes look confused or suspicious, but Amy took it in stride. She was certain that Jessica would come around eventually.

When they had movie nights, Amy attempted to start conversations about different films, which were met with enthusiasm from Luke and Jack, but much less so from Jessica, who just seemed to tune them out and do her own thing. Amy tried to include her, but Jessica only seemed puzzled by her efforts, and Amy usually gave up after too long a time with only minimal response.

Any opportunity she got, Amy would try to make a comment that would be some kind of conversation starter. Normally, this would only result in Jessica glancing up at her, smiling politely, and replying in a fashion that showed she was only minorly interested.

Finally, Amy changed tactics, and tried asking personal questions instead. Nothing too invasive - they were just getting to know each other, after all. Reasonable questions, one any pair of new friends might ask one another. She asked how Jessica and Luke had met, which only got her a startled look and a shifty, “mutual misfortune,” as an answer. Amy knew well enough to drop it, but it felt lousy. She asked about Jessica’s parents, her siblings, which only ended in more caught-off-guard expressions and awkward silences and even more awkward one-word responses.

One morning, she found herself alone with Trish in the library. Trish seemed open enough to friendship, so Amy had been chatting with her pretty regularly since River’s date night. But rarely had they found themselves alone - usually Jessica was there, or the Doctor, or Rory. Despite the fact that Trish seemed to be absorbed in her book, Amy thought this would be the perfect time to pose some important questions.

“Trish,” she said. And then she repeated herself, until Trish finally looked up from her book and frowned. “Sorry, I don’t want to interrupt, it’s just...does Jessica not like me, or something?”

Immediately, Trish softened, and dog-eared the page she was on so that she could set the book down. “No, I think she likes you well enough.”

Well, that was somewhat of a relief. “Oh. She doesn’t...no offense, I know you’re her best friend. But she doesn’t act like it.”

Trish sighed. “Jessica’s a closed-off person at the best of times. It’s the way she’s always been, but especially the past few years.” Kind of like the Doctor, Amy thought. She said as much to Trish, which earned her a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, he’s not exactly open himself. Look, the best way to get to know Jessica is to let her approach you. It’s harder that way, and it takes time, but you might freak her out if you chase after her.”

Which is exactly what Amy had been doing. But then again, she’d never had anyone  _ not _ want to befriend her. She of course had her flaws, and she wasn’t the perfect friend, but she tried, and where it counted she was a good confidant, and listener, and advisor. And more than anything else, she was a friendly person. And, not to toot her own horn, she was  _ interesting _ . It was part of the reason the Doctor had invited her along with him - he’d essentially said as much.

That made her sound rather self-centered, even in her own mind. But it wasn’t untrue.

“Okay,” Amy said. It had been long enough since she’d spoken that Trish had begun to pick up her book again. “Thanks for the advice. I just think we’re a lot alike, you know?”

Trish smiled. “I think so, too. Give Jessica a chance. She needs more people in her life, even if she won’t admit it. Don’t tell her I said that.”

Amy offered a wry smile back. “I won’t.”

It felt good to have a friend.

* * *

Amy attempted Trish’s recommended method - she wasn’t unfriendly to Jessica, but she tried backing off. It was more difficult than it sounded.

For one, Amy had gotten used to instigating conversation. And, evidently, Jessica had gotten used to it as well. When they were together, in the TARDIS or on some quiet adventure, things fell incredibly silent between them. And soon Jessica would start shooting squinty-eyed glances at Amy, obviously expecting some kind of assault of conversation. It took all of Amy’s willpower not to give in. Even Rory started questioning her, when they were alone, asking her if she was alright.

_ Am I really that talkative? _ she started to wonder, with some trepidation. Though maybe that was another reason the Doctor liked to have her around - with her, someone else was there to chatter back at him. God knew Rory wasn’t about to do it; he was far more shy than Amy had ever been, even with the Doctor. And he tended to get a bit overwhelmed when the Doctor started techno-babbling at him.

Things came to a head one sleepy afternoon in the TARDIS. Amy entered the library with a few books she’d swiped the day before (none of which were particularly interesting, to her displeasure), and found Jessica dozing on one of the couches there. It looked like maybe Luke had been around before, since his favorite leather jacket was lying on the coffee table, but for the moment Jessica was alone.

Maybe it was a harsh move to wake her up, but Amy was getting  _ very _ fed up with waiting around. She’d done enough waiting already in her lifetime. She was patient, certainly, but she was tired of being patient. She’d learned, over the past few years, that while waiting usually worked eventually, sometimes you had to take action.

She dropped her books on the coffee table, more loudly that intended, and winced as Jessica jolted up with wild eyes.

“Sorry,” Amy said, quickly. “Look, Jessica, let’s do something.”

Jessica actually backed away from her, scooting back on the couch to rest against the arm farthest from Amy, eyeing her suspiciously. That wild look hadn’t yet faded from her eyes. “What?” she asked, more harshly than Amy would have liked.

“I want to be friends,” Amy blurted, and then immediately she smacked a hand over her face. “Ugh,” she muttered. She forced her hand to drop, and then made herself smile, as friendly as possible. “I think we’re a lot alike, and honestly, I need more friends. Trish said she thought you could use more, too.” She hadn’t meant to say that. Jessica’s suspicion turned to an outright glare.

“Trish,” she grumbled. Slowly, she began to relax, however, and Amy let her own shoulders loosen. Jessica sat up a little more.

“Let’s do something,” Amy repeated. “Some...girl time. Female bonding. Whatever you want to call it. Trish can come, too, if that’s better.”

Jessica’s face twisted. “I’m not good at making friends.”

Amy fought back a wince, and smothered her growing disappointment with effort. “Well, I am. Let’s just talk. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. We can talk about our parents, or Luke and Rory, or our favorite drinks, or  _ something _ .”

Jessica’s mouth turned slightly up, but it was not a hopeful expression. Amy’s heart pounded.

“Or how we met the Doctor,” Amy offered. “I don’t know anything about that, and that’s always an interesting story.” She attempted a bigger smile.

If there had been any chance that Jessica was about to open up, it immediately vanished, and she visibly shut down. Her eyes lowered. “I’d rather not,” she said, and her voice was biting.

Amy clenched a fist. The first hints of anger burned in her gut. But not really at Jessica. She didn’t know why Jessica didn’t want to talk, but from what Trish had implied she had good reason. No, she was more upset with the Doctor. He was supposed to tell her these things now. They’d made an  _ talking agreement _ , for God’s sake. He was supposed to tell her  _ something _ . Anything.

Without another word, Amy stood and left the room, headed straight for the console room.

Poor Rory intercepted her in the hall, with a content smile on his face that faded the moment he saw the murderous expression on her face. “Amy?” he asked, nothing but concern.

“Where’s the Doctor?” Amy demanded. Rory grimaced, probably already feeling bad for the Time Lord who was most certainly about to get sworn at.

“The pantry, I think,” Rory stammered. “Um, Amy-”

“Sorry, Rory, not now,” she called behind her, already off again to wind through the TARDIS’ labyrinth halls. To the ceiling, she said, “You’d better not hide him from me. You know as well as I do that he deserves what’s coming to him.”

Although the TARDIS’ hum was displeased, it didn’t sound entirely disapproving. Amy felt more than heard something shift off to her right, and she turned to find the distinctive pantry door just ahead, a plain brown against the TARDIS’ silver walls. It opened before she’d even touched it.

“Doctor!” she yelled.

“Amelia Pond!” he called back, much too cheerfully. It only made her growing rage boil. He stood on a ladder, nearly high enough to bash his head on the tall ceiling, evidently searching for something in the explosion that was the pantry.

“Don’t you ‘Amelia Pond’ me,” she snapped. His face fell. He paused in the middle of his search to stare at her like she’d grown a second head.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice a cocktail of meekness and offense.

Amy tried to find a concise way to describe the problem, but could only come up with an exasperated, “You’re driving me absolutely mad, Doctor!”

He moved down one rung, as if he might come down to her level, and then apparently thought better of it. Instead, he leaned against the nearest shelf and continued to peer down at her. “Sorry?” he said.

“You’re still keeping things from me,” she elaborated, with an accusing finger pointed at him now.

She must have sounded slightly less furious, because he hesitantly began to descend once more. “Like what?” he asked, moments before he leaped to the floor.

Once she had determined that he was still in one piece, Amy went in on him again. “Jessica. How did you meet her? And Luke, and Trish.”

He paused. His gaze flew around the room, evidently searching for some kind of distraction.

“Doctor,” she said. “Tell. Me.”

“It’s not really my place,” he hedged, pulling at his bowtie. “It involves quite a bit of backstory which is...not mine to tell.”

“Then just tell me what you can  _ without _ the backstory,” Amy insisted, crossing her arms. “And tell me why you felt the need to keep it from me. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you hiding things from Jessica and Luke and Trish, too.” She stepped into the pantry further, and closed the door behind her. In something of a whisper, she finished, “You still haven’t told them about Gallifrey.”

The nervousness on his face turned to bitterness, potent enough that Amy almost felt bad for bringing it up. But no, she wasn’t going to let him guilt-trip her into dropping this. It was  _ important _ .

“I didn’t tell you,” he said, after a moment of pondering, “because I’m trying to leave it in the past. It’s better to forget it happened at all.” He started to lift a hand to scratch at his neck before making a sort of flinching movement and quickly pinning the offending limb back down to his side.

“I have to disagree, since despite your efforts it’s clearly still affecting everyone to this day.” Amy took a step forward to poke the Doctor in the chest. “I know you’re allergic to feelings, but sometimes it does some good to have a real discussion about them. It stops people from getting hurt even more than they already are.”

The Doctor sat on an abandoned stool, with a heavy sigh. “I’m not allergic to feelings,” he pouted.

Amy snorted, but, sensing his discomfort, mercifully decided to move on. “Look, just tell me what you feel comfortable sharing, okay?” She took an uncomfortable seat on one of the rungs of the ladder, keeping her balance by leaning against the rung above it and placing her feet firmly on the floor. “And tell me why you haven’t told them about Gallifrey. Please Doctor.” She gave him her best puppy-dog face.

“My past is on a need-to-know basis,” he said, more to his hands than to her.

“You don’t have to tell them,” Amy replied, more gently, “but it might save you some pain in the future. I’ve heard them asking to visit your home planet more than once. One, you won’t be able to distract them forever, and two, they’ll stop asking if you just tell them.”

He kicked at a fallen bag of crisps on the floor with muted frustration. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he admitted. “Ever, actually.”

Amy sighed. She propped her chin up on her hand and gave her Raggedy Doctor a once-over. His hair was a bit rumpled, and his shirt a bit wrinkled, but if there were any other signs of some impending mental breakdown she couldn’t find them.

“You’re giving me a look,” he informed her, rather suspiciously. “Why are you giving me a look?”

“I just worry about you,” she admitted. He looked touched, for a moment, before his pride caught up to him and he began to scowl. “Doctor, just tell me what happened,” she redirected. “Forget the Gallifrey thing for now, we can talk about that later. Just...tell me about Jessica. The parts that you can share.”

He inhaled slowly, and then exhaled in a harsh sigh. “Fine, fine. There isn’t too much to tell, really. It was a long time ago for me. My last body.”

“Pinstripes,” Amy remembered. She’d seen pictures of a couple of his previous bodies before, though it had been quite awhile.

He gave her a tiny smile. “Yes. Pinstripes. Well, he looked rather like - or, exactly like, really - someone she was not fond of. ‘Not fond of’ might be a bit mild, actually. She hated him. For good reason. So she sort of assumed I was him, and thought I might hurt other people if she let me alone. So she might have kept me trapped in her apartment for about a month.”

Amy swallowed. “ _ Doctor _ .”

“I let her,” he said, immediately. “I could have escaped, really, if I’d wanted to. But I wanted to help her, you know, and I was kind of wondering if I might be this bloke she knew. That I might  _ become _ him, you see, because we really did look  _ exactly _ alike. Down to the freckles.” He reached behind him to pick up a box of something or other, and glanced at the packaging before offering it to her. “Biscuit?”

Dazed, Amy accepted, and tore the bag inside open with perhaps more force than was appropriate. “Continue,” she said, around a mouthful of crumbs.

“He was a bad man, Amelia,” the Doctor murmured. “And if we’re being honest, I was in a vulnerable place. Er, emotionally. I had good reason to suspect that I was on my way to becoming someone like him, if not him directly.” He stole a biscuit from her, and took a cautious bite. “And I kind of left on a bad note with the lot of them. I was still convinced that I was going to become him, and...you understand paradoxes to a good extent, don’t you, Amy?”

Hesitantly, she nodded.

“Well, if he was me, and he’d already done it, and then I ran into the consequences of what he-me did, I couldn’t  _ actually _ avoid it, could I?” He kicked at the crisps again, more softly. “That’s a paradox. If I would have fought becoming him, I could have torn apart the universe. I spent all my time there avoiding that realization, as it wasn’t a pleasant one. But the thing was that I had just come from a certain adventure where I reached the same conclusion - I had to stop meddling with Time, even if it was incredibly unpleasant. I don’t think I explained that to Jessica, or...any of them. So, actually, they might still be a bit upset by that.” He seemed to ponder this for a moment, mouth twisting unhappily.

“What did he do?” Amy asked.

He didn’t look at her. “That’s what I can’t tell you. It wouldn’t be right, for me to talk about it. I wasn’t even there, so I couldn’t even give you an accurate story. And, you know, it was a long time ago. I have a fantastic memory, of course, but I’m not  _ perfect _ .”

Amy nudged him with her shoe. “Of course not.”

He then made a face. “These biscuits aren’t too good, are they?”

“Not amazing,” Amy agreed. She closed the box and set it aside.

“Don’t get angry with Jessica,” he said. He spared her a short glance, one filled with pleading and a sadness lurking around the edges. “I stayed of my own free will, really. I could have ended it all the first day, if I’d just told her I had two hearts.” He smiled wryly, but his eyes weren’t in it. Despite his claims that it had been a long time for him, Amy knew that he wasn’t over it. The Doctor, although he would never admit it, rarely got over anything. Mostly because he refused to talk about anything that upset him for any lengthy period of time.

And although Amy was determined to try and help, it was depressingly unlikely that she would be able to make any real progress. But she would still try. She was his best friend, after all.

“Why didn’t you?” she asked.

He took another deep breath, and the exhale came with the tiniest of wavers. “I’m a coward, Amelia.” He held up a hand before she could form a protest. “Don’t argue, I know it’s true. If I had told Jessica that I had two hearts, what if she had told me that this man did, too?” He looked up again, and his eyes were darker than she’d seen them in a long time. “I was terrified that she would say that to me, and I wasn’t prepared to face that possibility. So I didn’t say anything. Speculating and slowly driving myself crazy was easier than addressing the problem directly, at least for a while. And by the time it became more difficult, it had already gone on too long for me to simply mention that I wasn’t human.” He sighed, again. “Of course, she could have just as easily told me that he was completely human. But that wouldn’t necessarily have meant much, either. Time Lords can become human. I might have told you about the chameleon arch. It would have lifted some responsibility from my shoulders, if that had been the case, but…”

“But you aren’t him,” Amy deduced. “Are you?”

He smiled, very hesitantly. “No. Thankfully, no.”

She hadn’t really thought that he was - she couldn’t believe that the Doctor would ever do anything so bad that he couldn’t tell her about it. But nonetheless, something loosened in her chest. She reached out and squeezed his arm. “When did this happen for Jessica?”

“I went to pick her up the day after old-me left,” he said. “So, er. It’s a bit fresh for them.”

“A bit,” Amy agreed. “Are you okay?”

“King of Okay, remember?” he said. He smiled again, a little more genuinely. “But thank you, Amelia Pond. For asking.”

“Thank you for telling me what you could,” she said back. “Hug?”

The smile widened. “How could I turn down an Amelia hug?”

She still missed him, she realized, as they wrapped themselves up in each others’ arms. Or, really, how things used to be. Before she was a ‘real adult,’ with a house and a job and responsibilities. Because, despite everything, she would have to head home soon, at least for a little bit. And already, though she was still here, she missed him like he’d been gone for years.

“Why suddenly so curious?” he asked, as they pulled apart.

“I’m trying to be Jessica’s friend,” Amy told him with a self-conscious grin. “She didn’t want to talk about how she met you. I got fed up with not knowing.”

“Oh, Amelia Pond,” he tsked. “You don’t back down, do you?”

“Oi,” she said, “I’m trying to be a good friend. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, she doesn’t have to. But I at least deserve to know  _ something _ from you, don’t I?”

He kissed her forehead, all cold and alien and gentle. “Of course you do. I suppose I should have told you right off.”

“That’s right,” Amy scolded. “So now you know, Mister.” She poked him in the chest again. “I’m going to go talk to Jessica - I’m not going to be pushy,” she added, at the look on his face, “I’m just going to go tell her that if she wants to talk, I’ll be around.”

He squeezed her hand. “You are a good friend. No trying about it.”

She couldn’t deny that it warmed her heart to hear that. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“If anyone can help Jessica Jones open up, it’s you,” he said. “Run along, Pond.”

Run along she did.

* * *

 

Amy spent the next day trying to figure out what to say to Jessica when she finally got the chance. She didn’t want to be invasive or make Jessica feel as if she was prying for information, but she didn’t want to come off too ambivalent about the whole thing, either. There was a fine line there, and she had to do a good job of walking it if she wanted to have any hope of things ending well.

She came up with a good outline of what to say, but it all flew out the window when  _ Jessica _ approached  _ her _ in the kitchen just before bed the next night. Rory had long since gone to get ready, and the others had wandered on back to their own quarters shortly after. Even Jessica had left, with Luke and Trish joining her, leaving Amy to sip at her rapidly-cooling tea and turn over more words in her head.

Someone knocked on the counter, and Amy blinked out of her thoughtful daze to see Jessica hovering in the doorway like the human personification of uncertainty.

“Oh,” Amy said. Then, quickly, she amended, “hey, Jessica. What’s up?”

Jessica looked like she might abandon this, whatever this was, but she instead straightened her spine and said, “I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday.”

“Don’t be,” Amy assured her. She attempted a casual drink of her tea, but it was much colder now, and her efforts ended in her making a face and pushing the mug aside with embarrassment. “Er, it’s okay. You have the right to keep things to yourself if you want. But, full disclosure, I did talk to the Doctor about it. How you met, I mean.”

Jessica tensed a little. “What did he tell you?”

“Not really any details,” Amy admitted. “The bare-bones account of what happened. A lot of it wasn’t his to tell, according to him.”

Jessica then visibly relaxed. “Oh. Uh, good.”

“He sort of said he left off on a bad note with you, too,” Amy added, as the thought occurred to her. She’d seen the awkward way Jessica treaded around the Doctor, and until now hadn’t understood it. But maybe she could help make things right. “Um. On his behalf, I’m sorry.” She shrugged helplessly. “His reasoning involved a lot of Time Lord talk. Paradoxes and destroying the universe and...he did say he was sorry.”

Jessica sighed. “I guess...I sort of figured some of that out on my own. If he was Kilgrave, and he was a time traveller, and if he...came back to see the consequences of his actions, he probably couldn’t...undo that. At that point.” At Amy’s impressed look, Jessica said, “I watched some sci-fi movies growing up.” She then scowled a little bit. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t still shitty, though. He’s kind of an asshole.”

Amy couldn’t help but smile. “Sometimes. Maybe you should still talk to him about it, though. Clear the air.”

“...Maybe. Yeah. Probably.” Jessica didn’t seem too pleased about it, though. “At least I have confirmation that my crazy-ass theory was close to right.”

Amy nodded. “Um. Just to clear the air between  _ us. _ You still don’t have to tell me anything,” Amy told her. “About what happened. Really. Don’t feel pressured. You don’t owe me anything. If you ever do want to talk, I’m here, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” Jessica said, edging toward iciness.

Amy only smiled. “Good. Me neither.” She stirred her cold tea for a second. “I’m a Jessica, too, actually. Kind of. My middle name’s Jessica. Don’t know if I mentioned that. Amelia Jessica Pond. Or, it’s Williams now.”

Jessica leaned on the counter, her frown turning curious. “Williams?”

“The Doctor calls us the Ponds, because he likes that better,” Amy confided with a smirk, “but it’s my maiden name. When I married Rory I became Amy Williams. Or, to the Doctor’s eyes, Rory became Rory Pond.”

The faintest of smiles twitched at Jessica’s lips, and she huffed out the shortest of laughs. “I guess Pond is more interesting.”

“That’s what he says,” Amy laughed. “Do you want anything to drink?”

Jessica raised her eyebrows. “Like what?”

“We’ve got wine,” Amy offered.

“Sure,” Jessica said. As Amy got up to find a bottle in the refrigerator, the other woman perched on one of the chairs around the table, her feet drawn up to lie on the seat as well. “You’re a real wine girl, aren’t you?” Jessica asked.

Amy pulled out the bottle. It was already half-finished, but it would do. “Yeah,” she admitted, “I guess I am.” She pulled a couple glasses out of the glass cupboard, and poured them each a generous serving. “I take it you aren’t?” She set the glasses on the table and reclaimed her seat.

“More of a whiskey person,” Jessica said. Still, that didn’t stop her from taking a gulp of the wine and nodding approvingly.

“Don’t tell him I told you, but the Doctor has a  _ huge _ alcohol collection,” Amy confided in a stage-whisper. “If you like hard liquor, I think it’s mostly that. I’ve never been in there, myself.”

This earned her another eyebrow-raise, this one far more speculative. “I thought he hated alcohol.”

“He does,” Amy said, “but that doesn’t always stop him.” She laughed. “And anyway, he didn’t always hate it. From what I’ve heard, his last regeneration was quite fond of banana daiquiris.”

Jessica huffed another small laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It felt like the beginning of something, but Amy kept her hope down to a reasonable level. “Thanks for coming to talk to me.”

Jessica looked down into her glass before taking another sip. “Don’t you dare tell Trish I said this, but she was right. About me needing more friends or whatever.”

Amy hid a smile in her glass. “I think we all need more friends,” she said after she took a drink. “It never hurts to make more, no matter how many you have.”

Jessica shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

They sat quietly. Amy swirled the wine in her glass. Jessica didn’t bother with any such time-wasters, and was nearly done with her drink by the time she spoke up again.

“So, Jessica and Jessica,” she said.

“Kind of Jessica,” Amy amended. But she grinned.

“I don’t think I’ve met another Jessica before,” Jessica mused. Despite the awkward lilt to her voice, Amy was warmed by the effort. “It’s a pretty common name, so I don’t know why I haven’t. Not even a middle-name Jessica.” She smiled, just a little.

“I guess it was just meant to be,” Amy teased.

The smile on Jessica’s face grew, just fractionally. “I guess maybe it was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, yay. I loved writing the interactions between Jessica and Amy here. I think they make an interesting pair. But let me know what you guys think of it, as usual! I hope you all are having a good week!


	5. No Forever

Ianto had never been jealous of the Doctor.

No, really.

He’d been a little uncertain of Jack and the Doctor’s relationship, when Jack had first begun to be truthful with him, but with time, learning more and more, that uncertainty had faded. Ianto was now entirely confident that Jack was committed to their relationship, time-travelling aliens or no.

It helped that Jack, once he’d decided to start telling the truth, had been nothing but brutally honest about he and the Doctor’s past, as much as he could be.

Ianto had been assured from the start that nothing serious had ever happened between them. The most they’d done, according to Jack, was have a drunken make-out session, which had apparently happened so long ago that Jack thought it pretty likely the Doctor had cast it out of his mind entirely.

Jack did divulge that things might have gone farther, since they had, in fact, liked each other quite a bit, if not for two very important factors. The first was that Jack had, quite literally, passed out on top of the Doctor halfway through, promptly ending any blooming romance.

The second was that the Doctor had been, at the time, incredibly invested in someone else. And while Jack did not keep it a secret that he was open to all  _ types _ of relationships, the Doctor hadn’t been, and the girl he was chasing after hadn’t been terribly keen, either, although she’d liked Jack well enough.

So, even though Ianto had never been the jealous type, necessarily, any potential issues had been put to bed by this knowledge.

That was, until he’d started to learn a few more things about the Doctor, things Jack hadn’t mentioned. And until he’d started to see the two of them interact more and more.

It started when Amy and Rory left; a rather casual goodbye, apparently only necessary because they had “real lives” to attend to on the side. They promised to be back soon. Ianto, who had begun to find that he and Rory got on rather well, was disappointed to see them go, but their departure also meant that the TARDIS’ halls were a little quieter, something he had to admit that he enjoyed. And with Amy gone, there was one less person cajoling the Doctor into going on potentially dangerous adventures, meaning they ended up just a little bit safer at the end of the day.

However, it also meant that the Doctor’s only close friend around was Jack.

The day after Amy and Rory left, the Doctor popped his head into the kitchen at lunchtime, calling for Jack.

Ianto looked on, amused, as Jack spoke around his mouthful of bread and turkey. “What?”

“Help me,” the Doctor commanded, and then disappeared as quickly as he’d come, and with just as little explanation.

Ianto almost expected some kind of argument or complaint, but Jack simply shook his head, smiling, and finished off his sandwich. “I’ll be back,” he assured, pecking absently at Ianto’s cheek on his way out the door.

“Wonder what that’s about,” Trish said. She leaned her head on her hand thoughtfully, peering at the door as if it might give her an answer.

“God knows,” Jessica mumbled, voice muffled inside that day’s third cup of coffee. “Probably something ridiculous.” Luke smirked into his own mug.

“Remember the toaster oven?” Trish asked, as if they could forget.

“Do I,” Ianto said. Trish laughed at him. He liked Trish. She was nice and personable, but not fake. He was pretty sure that she was a celebrity of some kind, but he couldn’t place her face, and it hardly mattered at this point, anyway. Jessica was more rough around the edges, but she’d never treated either Ianto or Jack unkindly, so he had nothing against her. Luke was more of the strong and silent type, but he’d made some sarcastic comments hilarious enough to make even Jack balk in disbelief.

They all got on quite well, all things considered.

This turned out to be extremely fortunate, as Ianto lost track of Jack for a good three hours. When he finally decided it had been far too long, and he was starting to get worried, he found the two of them half-buried in dust-covered artifacts in some long-forgotten broom cupboard of a room.

Ianto hovered in the doorway as the two others, with their backs to him, tossed something back and forth as if it might explode in their hands. “Jack,” he said, finally.

The Doctor flung the thing at him in something of a wild startle, and it was only by sheer luck that Ianto managed to catch it. “Ianto!” he called, sounding surprised but not upset by the new addition to...whatever this was. “What’s going on?”

“I just came to find Jack,” Ianto said, trying to make himself sound far less relieved and annoyed than he was. He handed the object - large, dark, and square, but unexpectedly light - back to the Doctor. “You’ve been gone for awhile.”

Jack looked appropriately guilty, but the Doctor had no such remorse. “We got a bit sidetracked,” the Doctor admitted. “Look at this place!” He picked something else off of the floor - this one spherical, looking to be covered in glitter.

“Looks like a broom closet,” Ianto said.

“Apparently this is a bunch of stuff the Doctor was supposed to sort through about four hundred years ago,” Jack snickered.

“Or seven hundred,” the Doctor muttered. He tapped on the sphere, and a hole opened up in it, large and black. Unperturbed, the Doctor reached an arm in, up to the elbow, far deeper than he should have been able to fit.

“They’re Time Lord storage bins,” Jack explained to Ianto, with a wry smile. “We’ll be here all week, at this rate.”

Ianto nodded, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Jack had talked about the Doctor quite a bit. He’d mentioned he was from an ancient race, that he was pretty long-lived, that he was knowledgeable and powerful, and, despite all appearances, could come up with some impressive bits of wisdom when the situation called for it.

Maybe Ianto had known that the Doctor was basically immortal, but it hadn’t...registered. Not like the Doctor mentioning seven hundred years like it was five made it register.

The Doctor produced an entire comforter from the container, like a magician pulling a stream of ribbon out of his mouth. Hand-over-hand, until the entire thing in its blue-striped glory was spread over the closet and spilling into the hallway. The Doctor then peered inside the sphere again, and hummed. “I think there’s an entire bed-set in there,” he said. “Interesting.”

“Including the frame?” Jack wondered, already leaning in to look for himself.

Ianto shook his head, searching for something to say that wouldn’t give away his thoughts. “So this is going to take awhile?” he guessed.

“Hopefully,” the Doctor said. “Not to be rude, but you people are  _ boring _ .”

“There’s nothing wrong with being safe,” Jack countered. “And you know just as well as I do that you don’t have the best track record for keeping your companions out of trouble.”

The Doctor mumbled a bitter agreement, ducking his head back into the sphere. “I think I’d be able to crawl in here,” he announced. His voice  _ echoed _ . He popped back up, pointing at Jack with a cartoonish sort of scowl. “And you can’t lock living things in these, so don’t even try.”

Jack raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No pranks.” He turned one of his blinding grins at Ianto. “Would’ve been a good one, though.”

Although Ianto’s mind still churned, he could still manage a responding smile. One he thought was pretty genuine. A Jack-smile could do that to you.

The Doctor crawled inside the sphere, and could be heard clamoring around inside it for several minutes. Ianto could do little else but stare at the impossible object, which was now perched precariously atop the mountain of similar containers and a few stray knick-knacks. Not long after, he emerged, rumpled but grinning. “All safe!” he declared. “Let’s dump ‘er.”

“You’re just going to dump it out?” Ianto questioned. “How much is in there?”

“Oh, a  _ lot _ ,” the Doctor stressed. “You might want to step back. Actually, probably be best to move this to hall, so as to avoid…” he trailed off, eyeing them each critically. “Er, injury.”

“There  _ is _ a bed frame in there,” Jack deduced, all too proud. “Isn’t there?”

“Maybe.  _ Move _ .” Jack stood up and staggered out to join Ianto in the hall. The Doctor joined them shortly, cradling the sphere in one arm and attempting to keep his balance on the pile of junk with the other. When he made it out, he turned his back to them, and upended the sphere.

And a flood of objects tumbled out. Including, as predicted, a bed frame.

Within moments, their part of the hall looked much like the little broom closet - piles and piles of nonsense. Knick-knacks and gadgets and alien contraptions Ianto was immediately nervous to even look at, let alone let touch him.

The Doctor gave the sphere a final shake, then tossed it aside. “Well, would you look at that?” he said. “It’s not nearly so much when it’s all out in the open here.”

They were up to their calves in junk.

“Jesus, Doc,” Jack said. But he was grinning. “This is going to take  _ forever _ . Should we get the others to come help?”

The Doctor bent down, picking up a small object that looked like a pinwheel. It had a slim metal base with a metal stick coming up out of it, a little flashy arm attached to the top of the stick. As if he was afraid he might break it, he spun the arm. It made a soft whirring sound, almost musical, and the tiny lights along it flashed. He looked...sad.

“Best not,” he said, after a moment of expectant silence. “Lots of Time Lord-y things here.” Surreptitiously, he tucked the object into his jacket pocket. He bent down again, picking through things, his face conveniently obscured. “They don’t know about Gallifrey,” he confessed. “It might be a tad...uncomfortable.”

The Doctor’s home planet, right. Ianto knew it had been destroyed, in some war. Jack hadn’t given him the details. All he knew was that the Doctor had a fair bit of survivor’s guilt over it. And, so it seemed, didn’t want to talk about it.

“That makes sense,” Jack agreed. The Doctor couldn’t see it, as his back was still turned, but Ianto could tell by the expression on Jack’s face that he felt bad for even bringing it up, though he couldn’t have known. “We can help at least, though, can’t we?”

The Doctor shrugged. “If you want.” He spun without warning, and tossed what looked like a bouncy ball in their direction. Jack snatched it out of the air right before it hit Ianto in the face.

“Almost got you,” the Doctor grinned. It was such a sudden change in mood that it made Ianto nervous, but Jack took it in stride. “Come on then, you two. Start sorting. Er, sorting the things you recognize, anyway. Random junk in one pile, actual useful things in another. I can go through them more later.”

They spent the rest of the day going through that pile alone. By the end of it Ianto was exhausted, and though the rest of the night passed peacefully and without incident, he was unable to shake his earlier realization from his mind.

* * *

The next shake to Ianto’s confidence came the next day, while they once again sorted through the Doctor’s forgotten junk.

They’d moved to an unused bedroom instead of the hall, as Ianto had suggested they  _ not _ take up the walkway with their little project. Or rather, the Doctor’s project that he and Jack had somehow ended up roped into. This meant that things were much more crowded, but there were also a few more comfortable places to sit while sorting. So Ianto sat on the bed with a pile of things he’d grabbed from the main collection of junk. Jack sat beside him with his own pile. The Doctor, meanwhile, was half-buried in things on the floor.

“Look at this,” Jack suddenly exclaimed. He held up a disc for them all to see - shiny, silver, and the thickness of a CD. “I haven’t seen one of these since that trip to Era-Ten!”

“The one where you almost got us blown up?” the Doctor remarked. “I remember.”

Ianto laughed. “What did you do, Jack? Flirt with the wrong person?”

The Doctor pointed at Ianto. “Exactly. He thought it would be a  _ great _ idea to have a chat with the princess, who just so happened to be looking for a husband at the time.”

“It was a perfectly innocent conversation,” Jack defended. He set the disc down on the nightstand in order to haughtily cross his arms.

“Sure,” the Doctor said, sounding anything but convinced. “Anyway, then Jack  _ kissed _ me, right in front of her. I don’t remember why. And she was not pleased.”

Ianto’s heart skipped a beat in shock (and maybe a little bit of annoyance), but he shrugged it off. It had been a long time ago, after all. “Well, I can imagine not.”

“You have a bad habit of doing that,” the Doctor continued, facing Jack again.

“What?” Jack asked, indignantly. “Being friendly?”

“Kissing me,” the Doctor corrected. “It happened far too often. I think even Rose started to get a little concerned.”

“It was the leather jacket,” Jack said, decisive but smiling. “What can I say, I’m a simple man.”

Ianto found that his eyes wouldn’t move from his hands. He grabbed blindly for another object, for some sort of distraction. Jack and the Doctor continued bantering, oblivious to Ianto’s pounding heart and sweaty hands and tight chest.

He forced himself to let it go, and laughed at the next of the Doctor’s jokes. He managed to convince even himself that it had just been a moment of weakness. Things were fine. He was fine.

* * *

 

Despite his very convincing mantra of “it’s not a big deal,” Ianto found that he couldn’t stop noticing how the Doctor and Jack interacted. How they moved around each other without even seeming to think about it. How they brought up adventure after adventure after adventure, story after story after story, without so much as a hesitation to recall the details.

Jack had said that their past had been just that - the past. A long, long time ago if his phrasing had been anything to go by. But the way they acted, it didn’t seem long ago at all. The stories they told and retold seemed weeks old instead of years. The inside jokes seemed to have been made the day prior, although Ianto knew they might have been older than he was.

He wanted to be happy for Jack, that he had a close friend, but he found that he couldn’t do it. It drove a poisonous fear into his heart every time Jack laughed at the Doctor’s bad jokes. Although Ianto laughed along, too, he could hear his own amusement becoming increasingly hollow.

He couldn’t stop imagining Jack after his death - something he’d pictured before, but before now Jack had always been alone. In these new versions, the Doctor was always there, too. Jack was hurting, and the Doctor was there, and Ianto was not. The Doctor, with their shared stories and jokes, and with a life that would continue on far after Ianto’s had ended.

Ianto supposed it wouldn’t matter to him once he was dead, but it hurt all the same. Jack would move on, and the Doctor would be waiting. No matter what the two of them said about being strictly platonic, they kept  _ flirting _ . And they had a past together. The Doctor had River, but Jack had told Ianto a bit about that, too. It would last for a long time, but not forever. And if time caught both Jack and the Doctor in the right moment...Ianto hated to think that he might be so easily forgotten.

Maybe that was stupid. He was being ridiculous. He knew Jack loved him, and Jack wasn’t an asshole who would immediately discard Ianto and their relationship like a torn shirt or something. But he didn’t want to think about Jack with other people, no matter how selfish that might be of him.

Despite his growing worry, Ianto was determined to get over this problem of his by himself. He wasn’t going to bother Jack with it, and he’d rather the Doctor not know at all. He internalized, as he’d done with many of his problems over the years, and kept up the act as they continued to sort through the Doctor’s junk. Kept it up even as he continued to be assailed by story after story, joke after joke.

Good thing he was an expert at keeping a straight face.

However, what he didn’t count on was Jack’s equal experience at seeing right through him. So as the third day of sorting came to a close, Jack cornered him in the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Ianto asked, as Jack pushed him inside and shut the door behind them. Jack crossed his arms, and then leaned against the door to provide an extra barrier. “Jack?”

“Something’s wrong,” Jack accused. He looked more angry than concerned, though worry lurked in his eyes. “You’re acting weird.”

“What do you mean?” Maybe Ianto should have known better than to try and deceive him, but he pressed on. He mirrored his boyfriend, arms crossed over his chest, head held high and defiant.

“You keep getting this look on your face.” Jack softened, just slightly. “I’m worried, Ianto. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Ianto said. “I’m fine. Personal things.” Immediately, he cursed himself.

Jack raised his eyebrows. “I thought nothing was wrong.”

“It’s fine,” Ianto grit out.

“You can talk to me, you know,” Jack pressed. “I thought we got over this hurdle already. I can talk to you about anything, and you can talk to me.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Ianto insisted. He hoped Jack couldn’t hear the tightness in his voice. “Go back and help the Doctor.”

There must have been some detectable bitterness there, because Jack’s eyes narrowed, and he eyed Ianto as if he was able to see into his head. “Did the Doctor say something to you?” Jack asked. His shoulders raised a little bit in visible anger. “I swear-”

“No,” Ianto interrupted. “No, he didn’t.” He considered his next words carefully. “If I wanted to go home, Jack, what would you do?”

Jack’s face fell. “You...you want to go?”

Ianto sighed. “I didn’t say that. I said  _ if _ .  _ If  _ I did, what would you do?”

Jack blinked a couple of times. “Well, I don’t know. I’d...come back with you?” The upward lilt at the end of the phrase lent little sincerity to his words. Ianto’s heart clenched abruptly, without warning, and he quickly closed the toilet lid in order to sit heavily on it. “Ianto?” Jack prompted, worry flooding back into his voice.

It took a single deep breath to begin to calm himself. Ianto looked up to Jack, still hovering by the door, and ached. “Jack, you know I love you.” The words felt fumbled and awkward in his mouth, as they rarely said them, but it was nonetheless true. Jack nodded. “But you can’t devote the rest of your life to me like I can to you.”

Jack simply stared, something angry once again springing up to join the concern on his face.

Ianto nodded pointedly to the door, indicating the rest of the TARDIS. He then gave Jack a significant look, which earned him a ragged sigh.

“Are you trying to break up with me?” Jack demanded, harshly. “Because you think the Doctor wants to bang me?”

“Not the words I would use,” Ianto snapped back, “but fine, if you want. He’s immortal, Jack.” Jack opened his mouth, but Ianto, body flooded with rage, continued, “I can’t give you forever. I’ll be gone eventually.”

Jack closed his mouth with an audible click. His jaw worked for a moment, and he stared. “I told you,” he said, at last, “that there wasn’t anything to worry about. I thought you believed me.”

“I did,” Ianto admitted. “I  _ do _ . It’s not about right now. It’s about later. When I’m gone, and River’s gone.”

“It’s not going to happen,” Jack said.

“I  _ am _ going to die, Jack,” Ianto snapped. He wanted to stand, get in Jack’s face, but he felt weak at the knees, and his stomach was turning enough that standing would probably be a bad idea. “I know it’s idiotic, okay, to worry about the future after I’m dead. But I don’t even want to  _ imagine _ you leaving me behind.” His voice cracked dangerously.

Jack swallowed. “I didn’t mean your death,” he ground out. “I meant me and the Doctor. It’s not going to happen. Ever.”

Ianto turned the words over in his mouth, feeling them burn, and regretted them as soon as he said them: “I know you’re in love with him.”

Jack almost choked, spinning away to press his forehead to the door and take a few deep breaths. “I was,” he admitted, almost too quietly to hear. “And I still...love him.” It sounded painful for him to get the words out. “But I’m not  _ in _ love with him. Not anymore. But even if I was. It wouldn’t happen.”

“Why not?” Ianto pushed. “You two get along. You hardly do anything besides flirt and talk about all the fun times you had together-”

Jack turned again, eyes burning. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “The Doctor can hardly stand to touch me,” he spat. “If I was still me, the old me, than maybe.  _ Maybe _ , in some twist of fate we could work out. But I’m Wrong, as he has so frequently pointed out, so it’s not going to happen. Even if I wanted it to, which I  _ don’t _ . He’s a Time Lord, and I’m a time anomaly. I shouldn’t exist, and my very presence is painful for him. The fact that he let me come on board at all is a miracle.”

Ianto searched for some sign of a remaining secret on Jack’s face, but found none. His heart continued to pound in earnest. His palms felt far too sweaty. But he felt relieved all the same. Some weight dropped off his shoulders.

“I might find someone after you’re gone,” Jack whispered. The anger faded, replaced with nothing but bitter sadness. “I can’t promise that I won’t, Ianto. That’s not fair of you to ask of me.”

Ianto swallowed hard. “I know that. I don’t want to...that’s not what this is about. If they were like me, they couldn’t give you forever, either.”

Jack began to understand, so it seemed. “It’s fair that way,” he ventured.

Hesitantly, Ianto nodded. “It’s selfish of me,” he said, “but that’s how I feel.”

Jack slowly, very slowly, walked over to sit on the rim of the bathtub, elbows on his knees, which very nearly touched Ianto’s. “I’ve been selfish, too,” Jack said, more to the floor than to Ianto. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you on board just because I missed it. That might not’ve been especially fair of me.”

Ianto touched Jack’s knee with his own, and left it there. A smile flickered at Jack’s lips, painful and sad. “I like it here,” Ianto admitted. “I like being here with you. I even like the Doctor, despite everything.” Jack’s smile grew into something a little happier.

“I’d choose you, Ianto,” Jack promised. Though he still didn’t look up, Ianto could see his eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and his chest tightened. “Always.”

He’d choose Ianto, over all of time and space? Over the life he’d once had, that he wished desperately for so often, even to this day? Ianto wasn’t sure he could believe it. He wasn’t worth that. But he wanted to believe it. More than anything else.

Jack finally raised his head, and Ianto met him with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry guys. I was only planning to wait two weeks between the last update and this one, but it's obviously been much longer than that. Things picked up a Lot at school, unexpectedly, and I also started working, so all of my free time got sucked away, essentially. I've also never been super happy with this chapter and couldn't figure out exactly why, so editing it was extremely difficult and I didn't want to put it out. I'm still not thrilled with it (and still don't know why), but I finally got a breather and decided to just post it.
> 
> Updates will probably be more erratic than I'd anticipated, clearly, but rest assured that this story will be updated, even if it takes longer than expected. I've still made little progress on the final chapters (grr), and have editing to do on the ones yet to be posted, but there are still 10 chapters of written (if not actually edited) material to go before I'll start really sweating.
> 
> Gonna try and do some major writing and editing this weekend, so I can be ready in a couple weeks for the next update, but we'll see how it goes. Thanks for your patience, guys, I appreciate you <3
> 
> As always, let me know what you think. And let me know wtf is wrong with this chapter lmao.


	6. Same Dark Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the JR JR song of the same name.

Jack and Ianto had gotten bored with the sorting after a few days, so the Doctor had taken everyone out on a little trip to take a break. He’d hoped that, after what was supposed to be a refreshing holiday, they’d be up to helping him out again, but the vacation turned into another race for their lives, and once the lot of them had made it back to the TARDIS, everyone had immediately retired to bed. And neither Jack nor his boyfriend had expressed any interest in returning to chores the following day.

So, the Doctor went back to it on his own that night, feeling perhaps a bit more bitter than was warranted.

However, sorting through old Gallifreyan artifacts by himself was, as he should have predicted, a rather grim affair. He had to take frequent breaks to rush off to the console room and distract himself with repairs before returning. This meant that he made very little progress, and the progress he did make was much more painful.

He was finally forced to stop, for his own sanity, when he came across yet another of Susan’s old baby toys: a sort of doll, clad in gold and maroon Time Lord robes, with felt-sheathed wire arms that swayed and bobbed with every movement. He shoved it into his pocket, stood, and very calmly exited the room. The moment the door closed behind him he felt a little bit better, but the toy weighed heavily in his bigger-on-the-inside pockets.

It was much harder to shrug off when there was nothing to distract him.

Unfortunately, the TARDIS was fairly caught up on all her repairs now, so there was nothing else to do to serve as a distraction other than to wander through the hallways and try to think about something else.

This didn’t work too terribly well.

Just as he was wondering if he shouldn’t go back to the console room and  _ make sure _ there was  _ really _ absolutely nothing that could be done, he heard a sound. The clanging of glass, far down the hall. At the same time, the TARDIS blew a frigid gust of cold air at his back, making the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. A very clear indication that he should investigate, then.

He ran a hand along the wall as he walked, a gentle  _ thank you _ to his ship, until he reached a familiar-looking door. It was a storage room, he knew immediately. He couldn’t recall  _ what _ he’d stored in there, off the top of his head, but the TARDIS clearly wanted him to enter; she was flashing the lights around the door now, in a pattern he knew to mean  _ urgent _ .

His hearts jumped a little. As he cautiously approached, the door slid open, and he found rows and rows of shelves - shelves full of old Gallifreyan alcohol he’d been hoarding for centuries. He’d never been a big drinker, even as a younger man, but having an alcohol collection was something he’d picked up from humans when he’d first started to bring them on board, and it had certainly come in handy after the Time War, when he’d...well, that didn’t bear thinking about now. Different times.

He heard another clang, and frowned. It came from deep within the room, deeper than he’d expected. Obviously the TARDIS had been elevating the sound earlier, so that he would hear. So this was serious, then.

The Doctor picked his way among the shelves, attempting stealth. Another clang, this one a little softer. And the sound of something being poured. He sped up, worry spiking into his hearts. Worry that only intensified as he turned a corner and found none other than Jessica Jones knocking back a drink, sitting on the floor by herself.

He froze. His eyes locked immediately at the bottle beside her, and the Gallifreyan script written on the label.  _ Oh no _ .

Jessica froze, too, hers was more of a defensive stance. As much as it could be on the floor, anyway. “Hey, Doctor,” she said, roughly.

“Jessica,” he said back, attempting nonchalance. But his voice was too high-pitched, and tainted with obvious worry.

Her cautious acknowledgement turned to a bitter scowl. “I can feel you judging me,” she informed him. Her eyes flickered down, not quite in shame but coming close.

The Doctor’s chest ached. “I’m not judging you,” he assured her. He spoke a little too quickly out of suppressed concern, but Jessica obviously took it to mean he was lying, as she glared at him and reached for the bottle again. “Jessica,” the Doctor blurted, and she paused, eyeing him. “How many drinks have you had?” he asked, careful to keep anything that could even be remotely considered disapproving out of his voice.

She poured another drink into a small cup she’d obviously taken from the kitchen, but didn’t make a move to bring the cup to her lips. “About four,” she hedged.

The Doctor’s gut twisted. “Oh,” he said. “Oh dear.”

“It’s not very strong,” she defended. “Hey!” She tried to grab the bottle away, but the Doctor got to it first. He quickly capped it, and spun it around to read the label. His hearts lurched into high gear. Oh, this was very not good, very not good indeed.

“Don’t drink the rest of that,” he told her. He placed the bottle back on the shelf, very pointedly shoving his emotions about it to the back of his mind. They could be dealt with later.

“I’m an adult,” she snapped back. Her eyes glinted with pain and anger and a dozen other emotions the Doctor couldn’t decipher. She held the cup close to her, but still didn’t drink. The Doctor’s relief was potent enough that he could feel it in his toes.

“It’s not about that,” he assured her. “Jessica, I’m not human.”

She scowled anew. “We’ve covered this.”

“I have a different tolerance for alcohol than you do,” he continued, pushing aside her comments. He poked at the bottle she’d been drinking from. “This is stronger than you think it is.”

Her nose wrinkled, but he could see a bit of worry coming to the surface on her face.

“The equivalent of one drink for me is about four for you,” he told her, watching her face the whole time. He poked at the bottle again. “And the effects on humans are...less than predictable. This is Gallifreyan alcohol. From my planet. Made for Time Lords. Like most of the stuff in here, actually.”

She just stared up at him, though she’d gone a little pale. “Shit,” she muttered. As if it might blow up in her face, she set the cup down beside her.

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, okay. Hop on up, Jones. We’ll take care of this.”

“I don’t feel anything,” she told him, even as she stood.

“That’s good,” he assured her. “Let’s just get to a bathroom, shall we? We can talk about the ‘why’s of this whole situation later.”

She grimaced, that painful glint returning to her eyes, but she relented and allowed him to guide her back to the entrance. He was starting to feel fairly hopeful about the whole thing - she was a heavy drinker (an alcoholic, really, although he’d never say that to her aloud for fear of a smack) with a high tolerance, so she might not need any medical treatment. Just someone to look after her for a little while. The Doctor considered waking Luke to inform him of the situation, but just as the thought occurred to him, Jessica toppled over.

He caught her at the last minute with a whispered curse, and quickly transferred to a bridal-style carry. She mumbled something under her breath, but he ignored her, too busy rushing toward the nearest bathroom - his own, he was pretty sure.

Sure enough, he set her down on the floor by his toilet, in the bathroom connected to his room. A few random gadgets laid on the sink’s countertop, which he quickly tossed to his bed in order to keep them from falling into Jessica’s hands.

“Where are we?” she asked, sounding dazed and looking even worse.

“My bathroom,” he told her, hearts sinking. He stood over her, trying to think of something to do. Anything. She squinted up at him with foggy, unfocused eyes. “Er. Water!” he exclaimed. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

“I think-” she began, but he’d already fled the room to find a cup - plastic, safe. He’d left one on his bedside table, along with a mangled alarm clock and a handful of wires. He filled it with water from the sink, and joined Jessica on the floor.

“Can you move?” he asked.

She hummed. “Prob’ly not.”

He huffed a sigh. “Okay. Well.” He set the cup down, and moved her as gently as possible into a sitting position, leaning against the toilet. He handed the cup to her, which she immediately dropped, spilling the contents all over the floor. Things were looking less and less good by the second.

He refilled the cup, and resorted to bringing it to her mouth for her. He felt a pang of nostalgia for nights spent up with sick kids, but quickly cast that out of his mind. She drank obediently enough for a moment, and then turned her head away unhappily after a few seconds. The Doctor relented for the moment, setting the cup back on the counter. “Okay,” he said again. “It’s been a long time - a  _ very _ long time - since I took care of anyone like this, but I’ll give it a go.”

“You’re a Doctor,” she pointed out, only just coherent enough that he understood her. She still managed to give him a skeptical look, despite it all, and he couldn’t help but grin.

“Not really that kind of Doctor,” he said. “Are you doing okay?”

“Alive,” she replied.

“Try and stay that way,” he told her, attempting a smile. “Nauseous yet?”

“No.” She sniffed. “I should be more drunk, though. If that was...however many drinks that was.”

The Doctor winced. “Yeah, probably. We’ll, er, get there. I would get you food, but you’ll probably throw it back up soon enough, so…”

She closed her eyes. “Hm.”

What could he do? He watched her for a second, carefully tracking her facial expressions for any sign of distress. “I have a hangover treatment for you,” he offered, wincing again as she twitched in surprise at the sound of his voice. “I could get that now.”

“They have actual hangover treatments on other planets?” Jessica asked. She kept her eyes firmly shut. Her head dipped back to hit the toilet lid, a little too hard to be safe, and she immediately brought it back up, with effort. The Doctor grimaced.

“It’s more of an educated guess on my part. Take a load of the right vitamins and it eliminates the more unpleasant side effects.”

“Sounds like a medical treatment,  _ Doctor _ .”

He didn’t reply, although a smile ghosted over his face. He watched her for another minute and, when she seemed to be doing alright, he stood. “I’ll be right back.”

As quickly as possible, he popped back into the hall and rushed to the medical wing. It took a few minutes of digging through various cupboards and drawers, but he finally tracked down a few of the necessary vitamin patches. Enough to help Jessica on her way to a less painful morning. He shoved the patches into his pockets, snatched up a bottle of ibuprofen, and dashed back down to his room.

Jessica was in the same place he’d left her, although she’d now gone a little too pale, and her head was again craned awkwardly back against the toilet.

“Oh dear,” the Doctor said. “Alright, Jones?” He set the bottle of pills on the counter, and fished frantically in his pockets for the patches.

She managed a painful-sounding groan. He continued to search for the vitamins, now with added haste. Instead of the medicine, he dug up a past-ripe banana, a yo-yo, and...Susan’s toy.

He froze, without even realizing he’d done so, staring at it with a sinking stomach, until Jessica spoke up, hardly understandable: “What’s that?”

The Doctor snapped out of it, and quickly cleared his throat. He set the toy on the counter, its soft wire arms bobbing gently. He dug into his pockets again, and at last brought out a handful of junk that happened to include the vitamin patches.

“Doc,” Jessica said.

“Don’t call me that,” the Doctor told her. He tore open one of the patches, and turned to find her staring blearily at him, eyes more unfocused than before. “They’re vitamin patches.”

Jessica squinted. Then, her head fell back against the toilet again, painfully loud. She didn’t lift it back up.

The Doctor got on his knees, and slapped the first patch onto her forearm. On the other arm, he put another, and then he placed the last one just under her t-shirt sleeve. As soon as they were on he relaxed a little. “That’s done,” he announced.

Jessica was far less pleased, and clumsily picked at one of the patches. The Doctor, alarmed, pulled her hand away. It took a considerable amount of effort, as she used all her strength to try and resist him, but as she was inebriated that strength was somewhat reduced. And he was still a Time Lord. “‘S itchy,” she snapped at him, attempting to smack him. She missed wildly. It would have been endearing, if he weren’t so concerned.

“I know,” he said. “Sorry, Jones. You’ll thank me later. You can take them off in a few hours.”

“Hours?” she repeated, scandalized, and the Doctor swiftly moved on as to avoid any further anger. She was far gone enough that she’d forget about it soon enough, anyway. Hopefully.

“You look pale,” he informed her. “Do you feel sick?”

She made a strange face at him that was probably supposed to be defiant, but it came off far more confused, in the Doctor’s opinion. Nonetheless, she groused a quiet, bitter, “yes.”

“Please don’t throw up on my floor,” he requested, trying for humor and managing nothing more than a strained edge to his voice. “Er, if you have to I guess that’s better than other possibilities. Don’t throw up on  _ yourself _ . Better rule. Or me, preferably, but I could live with that. I just don’t want to change you. I don’t think you’d like me to do that.” He paused. That thought hadn’t before occurred to him. She would probably be  _ very _ unhappy for him to do anything even remotely resembling removing clothing. “Should I get Luke?” he asked her. When she didn’t immediately respond, her eyes now squeezed shut, he ventured a careful poke to her shoulder. “Jessica.”

“Tryin’ not to puke on the floor,” she grit out.

The Doctor immediately pulled back. As she was leaning on the toilet and did not seem inclined to move, that wouldn’t work as a target. He needed a bowl, or a bucket, but he didn’t think there were any of either in his room. He glanced over his shoulder into the bedroom, scanning over what he could see, trying to find something of use, anything at all-

Jessica failed in her efforts dramatically, and all over the both of them and the floor.

“Oh,” the Doctor said, simply. He stopped breathing through his nose at once, and took careful stock of the situation.

Jessica sat, in apparent shock, visibly relieved, but with a telltale tinge of embarrassed red in her cheeks. Her entire front was drenched, as were the Doctor’s calves and shoes, and the small amount of white tile between them. It was absolutely disgusting but, fortunately, the Doctor had seen  _ far _ worse before. He constructed a plan - first, he would clean the floor. Then Jessica. Then himself.

“Do you want me to get Luke?” he asked again. Jessica  _ sniffled _ . An actual, slightly teary, embarrassed  _ sniffle _ .

_ Oh, no _ , he thought.  _ I’m terrible with tears, let alone Jessica Jones tears _ . He wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen her cry. Ever. That particular realization sent a spike of sympathy through him, and he attempted a smile at his newest companion.

“It’s okay,” he assured her, haltingly. “Er...I’ll be right back, Jones. Stay here.” Maybe that last bit was redundant, as the last thing he expected her to do was  _ move _ , but nonetheless he left it at that and raced off down the hall again.

He found her room with only a little bit of searching, thanks to the TARDIS, and picked out the first comfortable-looking outfit he could find - sweatpants and a baggy shirt that he recognized from the wardrobe room. He then found the nearest cleaning closet, and retrieved a mop bucket and the appropriate chemicals to scrub the floor.

By the time he returned to the bathroom, arms overflowing with supplies, he found Jessica had moved to the other side of the toilet, and had opened the lid. She spared a brief, disoriented glance at him as he entered, and then turned back to bend her head over the toilet bowl.

“Alright, Jones?” the Doctor asked. He set the change of clothes down on the counter, and prepared his mop bucket and rag. She grunted.

“I...I feel bad,” she grit out, into the toilet. The Doctor began to scrub, ignoring his pang of regret.

“Don’t,” he said. “It’s not your fault.”

“Shoulda read the label,” she whispered, softer.

“That’s actually impossible,” the Doctor informed her, daring to smile, “as it’s not in English and the TARDIS doesn’t translate Gallifreyan.”

“Why doesn’t it?” she interrupted.

Although the Doctor’s hearts skipped, he plowed on in pretend-obliviousness. “Maybe you shouldn’t have drank alcohol from a bottle you couldn’t read, but I assume there were circumstances that drove you to do it.” He waited, hoping to come off as patient, while internally he squirmed. This seemed like it might be a  _ feelings _ conversation.

She  _ sniffled _ again, and his hearts jumped in worry. “Bad day,” was all she said.

Well. That hit a little too close to home.

The Doctor ducked his head to make sure she couldn’t see his face fall, and said to the floor, “Er. Do you want to talk about it? Or something.”

Resolutely, she replied, “No.”

He was both relieved and disappointed, nearly in equal measure. “Okay.” He mopped up the last of the mess in silence, before washing the dirty water down the sink, rinsing the rag, and setting the lot of it on a dry part of the floor. He laid down a towel on the wet area of the tile, and then turned his attentions to Jessica, who was still head-down by the toilet, sniffling occasionally and looking right miserable.

“I have a change of clothes for you,” he told her. “Can you change yourself?”

She dared a dizzy, glassy-eyed look up at him, and slurred a, “maybe.”

Maybe would have to be good enough. The Doctor set the clothes down beside her. “I’ll be in my room,” he said. “Tell me when you’re done, and I’ll take the dirty clothes.”

She sniffled again, but nodded. The Doctor fled the room to do his own changing, keeping an ear out for any thuds or additional noises of falling. He shed his trousers in exchange for a new, nearly identical pair, and tossed his soiled boots and socks aside. However, he realized immediately after that he didn’t have any replacement boots, and the idea of going barefoot on a recently-puked-on floor was, despite his cleaning, not a pleasant one.

He found his old pair of white Chucks half-under his bed and, in a fit of nostalgia, slipped them on. They slid on as easily as ever, though the fit was a little tighter. He then sat on the bed, wriggling his toes inside his shoes, and waited for Jessica to call for him. When she finally did - a muffled “kay” - he carefully entered the bathroom to find her in a similar position as he’d left her, only this time clad in her new outfit.

“Not so bad, was it?” he asked, cautiously optimistic.

“Getting worse,” she mumbled into the toilet.

All his hopes fell in a wave of resigned disappointment. “All to be expected, I suppose. How do you feel?”

“Think I might black out,” she said, utterly toneless but for a twinge of that old embarrassment.

The Doctor grimaced. “Oh...okay, okay. That’s...but you aren’t dying?”

“You’re the doctor here,” she said.

“Not that kind of doctor,” he said back, again. He worked his jaw for a moment, building the structures of a few different strategies. “Let’s make a deal, Jessica Jones.”

She grunted, the sound echoing in the toilet bowl.

The Doctor continued, “You keep me updated on how you’re feeling, and I’ll…” he considered for a moment. “I won’t tell anyone about this. Especially not Trish.”

“You wouldn’t dare anyway,” Jessica growled.

No. No, he probably wouldn’t. Despite popular belief, so it seemed, he wasn’t  _ cruel _ . But that didn’t mean he couldn’t bluff. “Oh, I would dare,” he declared. “I know she’s worried about you. I’m sure she’d like to know. It might even be considered poor manners for me to  _ not _ tell her, considering she’s your best friend and all.”

Jessica muttered something unintelligible to the toilet, and the Doctor gave up on deciphering it. Eventually, however, she relented with a muffled, “Fine,” and the Doctor relaxed.

“Good,” he said, projecting as much cheer as possible. “Excellent. So. How do you feel?”

“Sick. Dizzy.” She paused, like she might say something else. The Doctor waited. And waited, and waited. She stared into the toilet, and he itched with impatience in the doorway, pretending that he wasn’t itching at all. Finally, he gave up and opened his mouth, but that was when she decided to continue with a strained, “Guilty.”

He snapped his mouth closed and sighed. Gingerly, he stepped forward, and slid to the floor on the opposite side of the toilet, just clear of the towel, leaning against the wall while keeping an eye on his new charge. “Don’t be guilty,” he said. “It’s okay, Jessica. I’m not angry.” Maybe he was a little peeved about the loss of the Gallifreyan alcohol, but that was only because there was an exceedingly small amount of it. An exceedingly small amount of Gallifreyan  _ anything _ . And she didn’t know about that, so he couldn’t really be angry.

She made another of those dreaded sniffling noises. The Doctor hid a wince by ducking his head. “I fucked it up,” she whispered. “The...with the robot chicken things.”

It took a long, long moment for the Doctor to decode this statement. “Oh! You mean the Tyrbytes? They aren’t meant to be chickens, Jessica.” She paused in her misery to give him a slightly watery-eyed scowl, and he tugged at his bowtie before hastily moving on. “Er, putting that aside, they were  _ supposed _ to be a trap, to catch humans specifically. They prey on the natural human urge to help wounded animals. Your lot’s infamous for developing bonds with barely-sentient creatures,  _ even robots, _ and the people of that planet took advantage of that. Not your fault you fell for it.”

“I shoulda known better,” she said, slightly louder, and more audibly upset. The Doctor’s hearts twisted. “It was making noises like it was hurt, but I knew it wasn’t a real living thing, so I shoulda fucking known that it-” she cut herself off with a painful-sounding hiccup, which then progressed straight into another bout of heaving.

The Doctor let her ride it out, resisting the urge to comfort her. When she was done, and spat into the bowl, he flushed it for her. “My first instinct was to help it, too,” he confided, once the bathroom was silent again. “I would have been far more concerned if you’d been able to simply ignore it and walk on by.” She sniffled once more. “You have a big heart for others, Jessica Jones, although I know you hate to hear me say it. It’s not a bad thing. Don’t feel guilty for it.”

She didn’t speak for several minutes, her breathing echoing loudly in the room. The Doctor let his head fall back against the wall. He realized, sitting there, that he was tired. More so than even he had known until now. It had been a few days since he’d gotten so much of a wink of sleep. Not since he’d started the sorting. He was already a little sore from his time spent on the floor thus far, and his eyes burned a little when he closed them. And sitting on the bathroom floor, still slightly wet from the water Jessica had dropped, his old trainers on, well...it brought back some rather unpleasant memories from his time with her the first time round.

“‘S not just that,” she whispered, startling him. He jerked his head up to look at her, but she kept her gaze aimed firmly into the water. “Been having bad days. For a while. Little ones. Not bad-bad. I just keep thinking. About things I shouldn’t.”

The Doctor closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the wall again. He understood completely. “About Kilgrave?” he guessed, softly.

She hiccuped again, and that was all the answer he needed.

“I’m sorry, Jessica,” he said.

“But he’s not you,” she whispered back. Despite her words, she sounded a little bit fearful. As if he might turn around and reveal that he’d been lying the whole time, that he really had turned into Kilgrave, that...the Doctor’s hearts leapt into his throat.

“I know. But I can still be sorry,” he told her. “Nothing like that should ever happen to anyone. And it especially shouldn’t have happened to you.”

It was quiet enough in the room to hear the tiny  _ drip _ of a tear hitting the water. The Doctor pretended he hadn’t heard, for Jessica’s sake, though his chest tightened in response.

“You,” she said, and then stopped. And then tried again, “you-” and then stopped. “Forgot what I was gonna say,” she muttered. “Think...I forgot.”

The Doctor sat up, and scooted over to her to examine her face. Her eyes were open, but staring blankly into the toilet. He detected a tear track on one side of her face, and her other eye watered dangerously.

“You’re not gonna tell Trish, right?” she asked, ever so slightly worried.

“No,” the Doctor assured her. As unthreateningly as possible, he took her right hand, the nearest one to him, and pressed his thumb to her pulse. It fluttered quickly, but steadily. She was okay for the moment. Still breathing relatively calmly, and with enough rhythm that it seemed safe.

“You’re cold,” she slurred.

“I have a lower core body temperature than you,” he said, smiling although he knew she wasn’t looking. Maybe she would be able to hear it in his voice. “Enough that humans tend to notice.”

She blinked a couple of times. “What else?” she asked. She turned her head slightly, laid her cheek against the toilet seat. Which, all things considered, was kind of gross, but she wasn’t exactly in the position to be worried about that. So the Doctor moved on.

“You know about the two hearts thing,” he mused. “And regeneration. Obviously. There’s not too much more to tell, really.” He released her hand in order to criss-cross his legs, and then propped his elbow on his knee and held his head there. “I have a time sense, so I’m fantastic at keeping track of the time.”

Jessica  _ almost _ smiled.

He very nearly mentioned the telepathy thing, but at the last minute decided that that would be a bad idea. Especially if she was already having a rough time with Kilgrave-related memories. It would only upset her. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't sure it would be a good idea to tell her at all. Ever. He changed the topic slightly, swerving off into a tangent about Time Lord timekeeping techniques, though he didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying. It didn’t seem like Jessica absorbed all that much of it anyhow. She started to repeat questions every few minutes, having entirely forgotten his answers. Still, the Doctor would respond again as if she’d asked for the first time. She already felt bad enough as it was.

Though he knew he would have to wake her up again soon, just to make sure she was still functioning, he let her fall asleep there. He took her pulse again, but kept his hand looped around her wrist this time.

Even asleep, she still seemed miserable. Her position was not a comfortable one, and she was still a little too pale, her flushed cheeks standing out against the rest of her skin.

“The other Time Lords are dead,” he said, before he could stop himself. She didn’t so much as twitch. He closed his hand tighter around her wrist, not sure what he was searching for. Comfort, or a sign that she was awake, or any signs of distress...he couldn’t tell.

Then, her eyes fluttered open, half-focusing on him. “You say something?” she asked.

“No,” he said. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “No.”

* * *

 

As predicted, things got worse.

Jessica threw up again ten minutes after his accidental confession, and became even less coherent. She fell unconscious once, but the Doctor was able to rouse her relatively quickly. Mostly, their routine alternated between the Doctor having a semi-normal conversation with her (if you ignored the repeated questions and slurred words), and him babbling pointlessly at her while she dozed. And sometimes she would dissolve into tears, unprompted, and he would awkwardly have to console her. Fortunately for her pride, she seemed to forget those incidents in their entirety.

“When you stop looking like death, I’ll put you to bed,” he told her. She blinked at him, but didn’t answer. “I’m sure we only have a couple of hours of this left,” he assured her, which was met with another blink.

She looked like she might answer, but then she simply frowned. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing,” he sighed. He’d moved to sit against the wall again, although he’d moved to the one opposite the toilet, where Jessica was closer. “I suppose you probably won’t remember any of this, will you, Jones?”

“I hope not,” she muttered into the toilet.

“I hope you don’t either,” he admitted, quietly. “It’s rather unpleasant.”

“Rather,” she snorted.

He smiled. “More than rather.” They fell into silence, and as it had often done over the past hour and a half, the Doctor’s gaze roamed to Susan’s toy where it still sat on the counter. It looked lonely and small and sad there, out of place among the toothpaste and empty bottles of face wash and soap.

“I had a granddaughter,” he said, before he could think too much about it. “Her name was Susan.”

“My grandma’s name was Susan,” Jessica mumbled. When the Doctor looked at her, he found that her eyes had closed again. “She sewed me a sweater one year. For Christmas.”

“Susan’s a good name,” the Doctor said. “My Susan got to pick her name, you know. When we came to Earth.” He picked at a thread on his shirt. He’d long since hung up his tweed, afraid of ruining it, and so was now in shirtsleeves and braces. Of course, the bowtie still remained, too. “You, er. Don’t talk about your parents, Jones.”

“They died,” she replied. An edge of buried sorrow rose in her voice. “When I was a kid. It was my fault.”

The Doctor sighed. “I doubt that, but I understand the feeling.”

“‘S how I ended up meeting Trish,” she continued, without prompting. “Her mom adopted me.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“She’s a bitch.”

The Doctor winced. “Too bad.”

“Trish deserves better,” Jessica went on, with more feeling. “She’s a good person.”

Smiling, the Doctor nudged Jessica’s foot. “That’s what I mean, Jones. You care for other people. You look after Trish.” Jessica fell darkly silent. “I know you feel guilty. About several different things. But your feelings don’t dictate reality. You may feel guilty about something, but that doesn’t mean that you’re responsible for it.”

Jessica didn’t say a word, though her breathing went slightly harsh for several seconds. Finally, however, all she said was “take your own advice.”

Maybe he should have expected that from her, though. The Doctor sighed again, and brought his knees up to his chest to wrap his arms around them and lay his chin on the surface they offered. “That’s a different situation,” he said. “Several different situations. Not comparable, really.” He watched her for a moment, and then changed tactics. “I don’t want to upset you, Jones. But I want to know about your parents.”

Jessica sniffled. “My mom taught me to ice skate.”

The Doctor mentally cursed his decision to go skating for their first trip, and grimaced. “Oh.”

“My dad watched TV with me on the weekends. I had a little brother, too. His name was Phillip.”

“I’m sorry.” They sat in silence again. The Doctor hoped she might speak up once more, flesh out these people that had once been so central to her life, but she remained stubbornly silent. He couldn’t blame her. He knew how it hurt to poke at old wounds. “I was an only child,” he said, to break the ringing quiet. “I wanted a sister, when I was young. Not that it matters terribly with Time Lords, since regeneration can change sex or gender or both right quick.” He pulled at his bowtie. “But I didn’t even get a brother, either. My parents were tired out after me, I guess.”

Jessica snorted. “I bet.”

Silence returned, but it was softer this time.

* * *

Jessica Jones woke up, and all she knew for several seconds was pain.

Her entire body ached, like she’d been dragged behind a truck for a mile. Her entire mouth was horribly dry, and it was  _ disgusting _ . Most of all, her head pounded with every heartbeat, so painful she could barely think. She was afraid to open her eyes. Not just because of the pain, but because of what she worried she might find if she did.

She quickly took inventory of her body - everything seemed to be in place, despite the agony she was in. She was safely bundled underneath a load of blankets but for her head, and a single arm, which was exposed to the cool air of the room. There was also something wrapped loosely around her free wrist, chilled but not quite cold, directly on the pulse point.

Jessica took a slow, calming breath in, and another one out. And carefully, painfully, opened her eyes.

Fortunately for her, there was hardly any light in the room. The overhead lights were on, but dim enough to avoid any new torment. Her eyes felt dry and were probably gross and red, but that was bearable. This lack of pain allowed her to focus immediately on the figure lying beside her, however, which soon had her gritting her teeth in embarrassment.

It was the Doctor. Fully dressed (thank God) besides his tweed jacket. Lying on his side, facing her. One of his suspenders had come off his shoulder, the shoulder not buried into the mattress, and hung loosely on his arm. His face was utterly slack, asleep, without any sign that he’d heard her wake up. It was one of his hands around her wrist, as if he’d fallen asleep while attempting to take her pulse.

“Doctor,” she whispered. Her throat felt like death, and she had a horrible taste in her mouth. The Doctor didn’t move. Not even a hitch of the breath to indicate that he’d noticed her. Jessica sighed, and closed her eyes again. They burned. “God, I’m an asshole,” she muttered. Gently, she slipped out of his grip, and ran her hands over her face.

She tried to think back to the night before, and found little more than a blank where the memories should have been.

She hadn’t blacked out drinking since late high school. She didn’t know what to make of this, didn’t know how to feel. She probably owed the Doctor an apology, for stealing his alcohol in a fit of desperation and then making him stay up to look after her.

God, she was kind of the worst, wasn’t she?

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Jessica forced herself beyond that for the moment. If she really tried, she could attempt to reconstruct some of what had happened. Once she’d done that, she would at least feel a little bit better.

Her memories ended, for the most part, after they’d talked about Kilgrave. But she could summon a few more after that point - foggy and weird, but there.

The most clear was that of sobs tearing through her body, the toilet seat digging painfully into her forehead. The Doctor hovering nearby, piping up every few seconds to try and console her, sounding lost and earnest. She was speaking, but it was mostly incoherent. She couldn’t even follow her own thought process beyond a few small details - something about nightmares and Kilgrave and and overwhelming, choking guilt.

She pushed her tangle of feelings about that aside, and moved on.

The next recollection that she was able to pinpoint was a little less distinct, and less painful by far. She was sitting by the toilet again, but this time she was calm, almost half-asleep, her cheek on the seat (which  _ ew _ , but that wasn’t important. She could shower later). The Doctor was talking, but she couldn’t understand anything he was saying. He gestured like he was describing something, and his eyes glinted like they did when he was talking about something he found especially fascinating, but Jessica had no clue what it could possibly be about. After a few moments she gave up, listening tiredly instead to the musical, lilting sound of the words. The memory didn’t last long, only thirty or forty seconds.

She realized, in retrospect, that he’d been speaking his language. Fast, obviously not expecting her to even attempt to understand. Just to say something, she guessed. She probably hadn’t made the best conversation partner, so she couldn’t blame him. She could remember, however, an instance of him speaking clear English. When he thought she was listening, she realized with another pang of guilt.

In the memory, he spoke as usual, inappropriately cheerful. But he leaned over her now, his eyes nothing but concerned as he wiped her face with a cold rag. “It’s okay,” he told her. “I can change the sheets.” She sat against a wall, not in the bathroom, soaked in sweat and shivering and feeling horrible inside and out. She heard herself apologize, again and again, as the Doctor drew away and stripped the sheets and blankets from the bed. He was wearing the white Converse he’d worn when she’d met him.

Oh God, she’d thrown up in the bed. Horrified, Jessica groaned, and dug her fingers into her face. And she’d thrown up on him, and on herself, and all over the bathroom floor. She remembered that part pretty clearly. Unfortunately. “Shit,” she muttered. “Shit, shit-”

“Jessica?” the Doctor said. His voice was sleep-worn and indistinct. When she dared a glance at him, his eyes were still half-closed. Still, he smiled at her. “You’re awake!” He managed to sound enthusiastic.

“God,” Jessica said. She turned away, and covered her face again. “Shit. I’m sorry, Doctor.” She tried to keep the full depth of her embarrassment out of her voice, but she failed miserably. Her eyes burned with more than just dryness - bitterly, she blinked away a traitorous tear. Thankfully, it was from the side of her face that he couldn’t see.

He hummed. “No more sorry’s, Jones.” She looked again, and his eyes were fully closed again. “Just a mistake.”

“I should control myself better,” she snapped. “I know that, you know that. Everyone knows. You don’t need to coddle me.”

“You have a dependency,” he said. She expected some kind of judgement. The absolute lack of it was  _ baffling _ . Still, she kept searching for it, her chest tightening. “Not entirely your fault. Just a mistake. It happens.”

Her eyes burned again. She was never this emotional, not to the point where she cried. God, this hangover was really fucking her up. “I should’ve thought for a second, at least, that maybe I shouldn’t drink alien liquor,” she said. “If nothing-fucking-else.”

“Maybe,” the Doctor allowed, “but you weren’t thinking clearly.”

Jessica groaned, so loudly that it hurt. “How much did I fucking tell you?” she whispered. “Shit.”

“Not much,” he said. “I didn’t pry too much. I can be polite. Let the record show.” He still had his eyes closed, she noted when she looked for a third time. She moved to staring behind him, to the nightstand. There was something on it that might have once been an alarm clock, but it was so horribly disfigured she almost felt bad for it. Then there was a bottle of mild painkillers, ibuprofen or something of the sort, and a weird-looking doll thing, stick-thin and covered in gold and deep red felt. She remembered, vaguely, him taking it out of his pocket and setting it on the bathroom counter earlier in the night.

“This is your room, isn’t it?” she asked.

He hummed a sort of affirmative-sounding hum.

That didn’t help her feel any better about puking in the bed.  _ His _ bed. Jesus.

“Don’t mind the mess,” he said, a beat too late. “I’ve been sorting through things on the TARDIS and I’ve yet to find a place for a good lot of it.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing,” Jessica mused. “We were wondering why we’ve hardly seen you.” He’d been nearly entirely missing for a full 48 hours at one point, and if Jack and Ianto hadn’t shown up for dinner and explained themselves, they probably would have started up a manhunt.

“Unfortunately,” he said, around a yawn. “It’s very boring. And other...not fun adjectives. So really, you provided a good distraction.”

“I’m so glad my poor relationship with alcohol could help you,” Jessica snarked, without any real heat. He hummed again, not quite smiling. She watched him, attempting to smother another rise of potent guilt. “The only time I’ve seen you this tired is when you were drugged to the point that you could barely move,” she pointed out. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

He cracked open an eye to glare at her. “Jessica Jones, you’d better not be lecturing me about my health.”

“I’m a hypocrite,” Jessica said. “I don’t deny it.”

The eye closed, and he sighed, oozing peevishness. “I’ve been busy,” he deflected. “And anyway, I’m sleeping  _ now _ . Look.” He clumsily toed off the sneakers he’d still been wearing, and curled in a little on himself. Despite herself, Jessica felt a little relieved seeing them disappear. Something about seeing him wearing his old shoes made her itch. “Sleeping.”

Jessica huffed a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“I am a genius, but thank you,” the Doctor told her. “Back to sleep with you, too, Jones. You need it. Take care of yourself.”

Jessica sighed. “I feel shitty, Doctor. About everything.”

“I know,” he said. “We had a long discussion about it. Actually, probably two or three. You’re very stubborn.”

Jessica groaned. “Jesus.”

“I don’t mind repeating myself,” he continued. “But first - sleep.”

Reluctantly, but glad to avoid the looming conversation for another couple of hours, Jessica pulled the blankets up to her chin and hid inside the warmth. Beside her, the Doctor’s breathing evened out. Despite everything - her boiling guilt, and pounding head, and burning eyes - it felt safe. And calm.

Weird, to share a bed with the Doctor, even in a strictly platonic way, but not necessarily bad. No less warm or quiet.

“Thank you,” Jessica whispered, before she could think about it. She was almost grateful that the Doctor didn’t respond, even if he had heard it. She turned over to her other side, and relaxed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm alive???
> 
> Sorry about the hiatus, guys. I meant to post this so much sooner, because this was one of my favorite chapters to write overall, although I'm not 100% happy with it even now.
> 
> I can't say when the next chapter will be up, either, because I'm struggling with editing, as usual, but it'll get here eventually! Thank you all so much for your patience and support. It means the world.
> 
> Also, it's my birthday tomorrow! Don't worry about gifts lol, just leave me a review and tell me what you think!
> 
> Love you guys. Stay tuned!
> 
> (Also, if you have any ideas for what I can call this series, please let me know. I can't come up with anything good lol)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! It's good to be back. :)
> 
> I know I said at the end of Gray that this story would be posted a month or so later. Obviously, it's been much longer than that. And unfortunately, it's going to be a bit longer until I update again. I've been having an unexpected amount of trouble with a few of the chapters, and I've been writing and rewriting them for several weeks now. Bleh. I've got to get it just right, and it's not turning out like it needs to.
> 
> But anyway, I thought I'd give you the first chapter as a taste - this is a little choppy, imo, but all the introductions and exposition needed getting out of the way, and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting more than I had to. It only gets better from here! :)
> 
> I have no idea when I'll post chapter 2. I want to say that it'll be before school starts up again in late August, but I have a sneaking suspicion that my to-do list is going to turn out to be both longer and more complicated than I expect right now. As enjoyable as this story has been to write, it has also been an Adventure. And will probably continue to be.
> 
> So let me know what you think! And I hope you've all been having a great summer so far :)


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